


Golden Boy

by paperandfeather



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Romance, Suspense, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperandfeather/pseuds/paperandfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you know what you have done? A bond was created. You two are now irreversibly connected to each other..." At first neither Sherlock nor John is happy about it but their animosity begins to fade...Magic!AU, Johnlock/Whump!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Golden Boy

                                             

 

                                             Artwork by [Stars_Shine](../../../../users/Stars_Shine/pseuds/Stars_Shine) **+** soundtrack on: <http://hannigram-13.tumblr.com/post/66665741936/johnlock-au-do-you-know-what-you-have-done-a>

 

* * *

_Gold is precious._

_Blond is golden._

_John Watson's hair is blond._

_Therefore he is precious._

* * *

When he was a child, he often sensed people staring at him. They stared at him because of his golden hair, which sparkled in the sun. They often would offer him obscene promises, if he would share his golden shine with them at night.

Mind you, he was still a little child.

His mother would always grip his hand tightly in hers as they walk down the market, to buy the food they needed to survive.

Their errands were filled with anxiety and caution. Terrified that strangers could abduct him for his golden hair. Which is why at the age of four, he needed to wear a hooded cloak every time he went outside. The hood was essential especially when the sun was at its highest point.

It didn´t really help that he was the only one in his family who possessed this rare hair colour. Whereas his mother and Harry had dark brown hair and his father had a slightly red tone in his light brown hair so there was no wonder that people assumed he must be adultery's child.

It had ultimately led to his fathers decision to leave them because he couldn't stand the gossip anymore. His mother would find his farewell letter one morning, carefully placed on the kitchen table. She would burn it in the fire without giving the content a glance.

"We don't need him...hell, we won't need him. If he decided to be a coward, then so be it."

John knew that despite his mother's display of strength, she would cry every night because of the loss of her husband. He knew that every time he looked into her eyes, she cringed inside blaming him for everything that had happened.

She was not the only one.

Shortly after their father left, Harry's addiction to the smelly liquids they sell at the taverns began.

She would sneak out every night to meet strange people she called her friends, though they were much older than her.

In the morning she would come home more desperate than the day before. And when she finally took a glimpse at John, who was wide awake in his bed because of the noises she'd make when she returned home, she would scream at him.

"It's your fault. I hate you! I want Dad back. I want him back so badly. I wish you were never born. I hate you. _I_ _hate you!_ "

And his mother would pretend that she didn't hear her own daughter insulting her brother.

It was so much better to ignore the pain. Ignore the fact that their family was broken.

It was all because John Watson had golden hair, which sparkled in the sun.

* * *

"John... _John!..._ How often do I have to call you before you would get up?"

John began to stretch his limbs lazily in his bed. Every morning it was the same procedure. His mother would use up all her energy, just to pull him out of his dreams.

He blinked the signs of sleep in his eyes away. It was the third day of the week.

Today he has to help the old fisherman out at the market.

He washes his face in a tub at the corner of the bedroom, observing his face on the surface of the water.

At the age of approximately 28 winters, his outward appearance betrays people, who always thought him to be much older.

It was no wonder, since Harry left their home as well searching for her own happiness as she had called it. This led to them to work harder to survive.

His mother recently developed a persistent cold so that the only bread-winner left was him.

"John." He turned around just to see his mother waiting at the door frame for him. She looked better now that he could afford to buy the bitter medicine which improved her health.

"John, don't forget your cloak." With those words she went back to her room, intending to rest after she successfully woke her son up.

John smiled. Even after all the misery she has suffered because of him, she would never let any harm come to her son.

People were even more eager to find human beings who are blessed with golden hair.

It seemed as if his hair sparkled more with every year that had passed.

So going out without the cloak was not possible anymore. It was necessary to stay alive.

When he arrived at the market a strong but familiar scent hit him.

The old fisherman had not begun with the disemboweling yet.

"Bless you John. It's really fortunate that you are already here. You know, my son has developed a nasty cold yesterday. Really nasty, yes... I'm very sorry but I guess you have to handle this whole thing alone again. But I promise you John it's the last time. I promise you. But you know my wife..."

"It's okay, Bill...I know. Go home. I think your son and wife need your help more than I do now."

"Thank you. Then...I'll be going. Don't forget the delivery you have to do today. The address is written in the roll on the table. Seems to be a big fish..Hahaha," he laughs at his own joke as he cleaned his hands with fresh water.

John sighs when the old man left the booth. He knew there was no sick child at home. As there was no robbery, injured wife or any other cases of emergency in the days before.

"You know the old man is swindling you. He is probably tasting a bought woman's flesh right now. Why are you doing this?"

Sally, who started to work for the fisherman 2 winters before he joined them, is looking at him with curious eyes.

"I need the money. Even if I have to work twice as hard as any other man would do, it's worth it, when I can be assured he will give me the money for my family's survival. My mother is still in recovery. Refusing his wishes would probably cost me this job."

Sally's curiosity turned into pity.

"I see."

Without a word she continued washing the tools, they later needed to disembowel the fishes.

John didn´t mind getting pitied. As long as he would get the money and nobody would discover his secret, everything was fine.

Sure, at the beginning they all laughed at him, the man who would never take off the hood, no matter how hard the sun could burn at times.

But they soon became accustomed to his strange behaviour, even calling him prank names such as "shadow face" or "hoody head".

They didn't know that every time he came to work, he was afraid of someone pulling the hood back and discover his hair.

"Do you know where today's supplies should be delivered?"

Sally pointed at some paper roll on a table.

"Thought the old man said the address was written in there. Good luck. I think it must be a household from one of the _Almighties_...judging by the clothes the _messenger_ was wearing."

"Sal, is that jealousy hidden in your voice?" John smirks.

"Not for every penny in the world would I want to be involved with them. I heard that they even kill little children to benefit from their blood because it gives them strength and intelligence."

"You should never believe in the gossip from the market-women..."

"Well, they sure don´t make it better with all their isolation from us _common_ people."

"Maybe they are afraid of all those people, who want to demand something from them, abusing their generosity to help them with magic."

The young woman stared at John before she started laughing.

"Really John, you should listen to yourself. You sound like you wish to be one of _them._ "

John didn´t answer her back but opened the roll to read the address. He would never admit that part of him wished to be one of _them_. He wished to be magic´s child. He would help people soothe their suffering while possessing a knowledge that no common man would ever have. But it was hopeless. You have to be born with the gift. And so far John hasn't discovered any special thing about himself at all. Except for his hair, it was more a curse than a blessing.

Some people think the _Almighties_ use dark magic to improve their strength and endurance because even magic has its limits. Should a blessed person use too much of his magical resources, he could be in great danger.

Dark magic is feared by everyone and it is believed that the only way for protection is the possession of gold from a human body.

That is why some people specialized in abducting blond-haired human beings. Because even golden hair, serving for protection, falls apart after a certain time and it should be replaced with a new strand. As a result, it was more comfortable to possess a living exemplar as a supply. Although it is highly illegal to do so and there are rumors that those people die in a short time because of mistreatment, there is no way in stopping the trade.

The funny thing is that the method is very doubtful and it is not proven that golden hair has any effect on dark magic at all.

John doesn't think its funny, given the fact that this nonsense has made his life a living hell.

* * *

The term _Almighty_ specifies a person from one of the three magical households, which has protected the whole country for generations.

They are named _Lestrade, Moriarty_ and _Holmes._

It is believed that the household _Holmes_ is the oldest and most powerful one of them all.

Even though the house of Holmes is said to be more powerful, the other two households shouldn't be underestimated.

Whereas _Lestrade_ is known for generosity to help people with apparently endless magic, _Moriarty_ is known for the power to defeat enemies with their overwhelming strength. But because people never saw any one of them, rumors started.

Though it should be noticed that dark magic is more likely to be connected to the household _Moriarty,_ which is also famous for the cruel and malicious way they handle their enemies.

* * *

John's mouth fell down as he read the inscription on the paper.

_Holmes._

Sally was right. The customer is one of the _Almighties_. He couldn't believe it. Would he be able to see one of them before his own eyes?

He felt excited.

His coworker must have sensed his excitement because she said:

"Don´t get too happy. I doubt you would be able to see _anything_ but their front door, especially not today. I´ve heard that one of the sons is getting _bonded_ today. They won´t let you even take a step on their grounds. You could disturb the little ceremony or whatever they are doing in that weird mansion."

But John didn't hear her anymore. He was already on his way.

Sally closed her eyes.

"I just hope you won´t get in trouble, John," she whispered to herself, staring after the distant figure.

* * *

It was magnificent. Every part of the mansion must have been worth thousands of farms. John couldn´t take his eyes off of the thick wooden front door with ornaments or the gargoyles, which seemed to watch out for unwelcome visitors.

He hesitantly knocked at the wood.

Almost one second later a servant opened the door, took his delivery and paid him with some coins.

It happened so fast that John wasn't even able to see a thing.

He was disappointed.

Was it childish for him to have believed he could take one glimpse at the household?

"Who are you kidding? As if _I_ would have had the chance to see anything. Of course they won't even come personally to take the delivery... John...you're so stupid..."

He almost started to walk back to the market when a cat touched his cloak.

John looked at it. The animal looked back as if it was challenging him. Then it jumped through a hedge.

Through the _Holmes'_ hedge to be precise.

John was perplexed for a minute. Before he knew it, he followed the cat. Making sure that no one saw him, he entered some sort of a front garden.

For a magical household being so fond of isolation it was surprisingly easy.

Before anyone could discover his entrance he quickly looked for a way to hide himself.

He was about to choose a tree when an open window caught his eye.

"You have gone crazy...," he mumbled to himself. But every part of his body ached to see what's behind that window. And minutes later he found himself in a large corridor.

Suddenly John could hear loud voices coming nearer and he panicked.

What if they would discover him? Would they punish him for breaking into their house? Or even worse...kill him for his boldness...

He shivered at the thought. The only solution for his problem was to hide in a large cauldron, which stood in a corner of a room, having the size of ten normal ones.

So he quickly climbed into it. Just in time when he could hear two men entering the room.

"Sherlock, please be obedient for once in your life. You knew it was time. There were even clear signs of distress from your magic. Making a _bond_ with the decent lady Cooper surely can't be that horrible."

"Hooper, Mycroft. Not Cooper. She can't be that decent if you don´t even know her correct name. Of course my magic is unstable right know...it's merely because of the injury I suffered from the latest fight."

"That was last _year_ , Sherlock. Just admit that it's time for you to settle down with a _bond._ "

John was afraid to even breathe as he listened to the conversation.

One of them had the most captivating voice he has ever heard. It seemed to set everything in the surrounding area in motion with its deep undertone. This must be how powerful people sound like.

_Magical_ people.

The other voice was just plain annoying.

They must be talking about the _bond. It is_ a ceremony in which a person, who is blessed with magic, is connected with a compatible mate. They would be irreversibly united to use their magical resources together. It was necessary to undergo the procedure. If not, the magic could dissolve at some point, leaving its owner with nothing but a feeling of emptiness.

John had the suspicion that somehow they knew that there was an intruder in the room. He could literally _feel_ their glance towards the cauldron. But that could be just his imagination.

"You can't _make_ me participate in that hideous thing called the _bond._ Even the slightest attempt to imagine sharing my magic with someone as dull as Molly Hooper evokes a feeling in me I would rather not feel."

"Maybe _I_ can't but the fact that M _ummy_ can and with the possibility of the loss of your magic any second _will_ make you _bond_ with her. This can end nicely or with some ugly intervention, my _dear_ brother. It is your choice."

John heard the other man going out of the room, being followed shortly by the other man, who didn't give up on talking himself out of the situation.

"Jesus...thank God they didn't notice me...," he whispered to himself.

His relief was shortly replaced by panic as he felt himself, or rather the cauldron, being lifted.

It took him a great effort not to yelp out, which would have revealed him.

"What do they put in the cauldrons nowadays? ...Feels like I'm carrying the whole village..."

"Shh...you better not complain. I heard that they degraded George to do the kitchen work for today's ceremony."

John would have laughed at them, if he wouldn´t have realised the dilemma he was in.

How could he even get out of the cauldron, if he was being carried around?

Finally they put him on the ground. After one glimpse to see if it was safe to sneak out, he wished he would have never chosen to enter the mansion at all.

He was surrounded by thousands of people. Judging by their clothes and appearance they were all magical people. Well, he wanted to see them, didn't he? He just didn´t imagine doing it under such circumstances.

* * *

"Silence my dear guests!"

* * *

In an instant the muttering stopped.

This time it was a woman's voice, obviously belonging to _Mummy._

"I'm very happy to announce that my youngest son Sherlock is completing his magical journey today by creating a _bond._ We are very lucky and honoured that lady Molly Hooper from the nearby village has agreed to be connected with him."

John could hear applause after the last word.

"I now demand Sherlock and Molly to join the circle. Please stand in front of the ceremonial cauldron."

He realised with a shock that she probably meant _his_ cauldron.

Moments later he noticed footsteps coming to a stop, right in front of him.

"I'm so nervous...don't you feel nervous, too, Sherlock? I mean...it's our union..I mean...you know...it's irreversible..."

"Hmmmh."

John could clearly filter out the annoyance from the deep voice he heard before. This lady Hooper was certainly talking too much.

"You two know what you have to do? After you have let your magic flow into your mate, performing the ancient way to connect your souls, your _bond_ will be seen by everyone, showing its strength by the unique flame that will be inflamed in the cauldron. Only by your fire we can discover if the _bond_ was successful or not. It will show your combined power."

Now John was terrified. Burning to death? Not the way he imagined to die. After quickly deciding that being punished for his actions is better than turning into ashes he tried to get out.

"Wait...wait..please wait before you do anything...I´m so-ho-ry..."

He never finished that sentence because next he found himself falling. He must have somehow gotten stuck with one foot in the cauldron, resulting in loosing his balance.

He closed his eyes, awaiting the painful impact with the floor.

But the floor felt surprisingly warm under his chest. He even dared to say it felt soft and comfortable. Only seconds later he realised he managed to give the ground a good smooch.

Sally would have laughed at him for getting laid by the floor in front of thousand _Almighties._

He realised too late that it was not the floor he was kissing but a pair of lips.

When he opened his eyes he stared into a world of grey mist. It was piercing and calm at the same time.

It was simply beautiful.

He stared into Sherlock Holmes' eyes.

* * *

**Next chapter: John´s little accident appears to be a bigger problem than assumed.**

**A certain curly haired/tall A _lmighty_ is not amused.**

**Thank you very much, Stars_Shine for the lovely image at the beginning of this chapter! It fits this story perfectly!  
**


	2. Farewell

**Previously:**

_He realised too late that it was not the floor he was kissing but a pair of lips._

_When he opened his eyes he stared into a world of grey mist. It was piercing and calm at the same time._

_It was simply beautiful._

_He stared into Sherlock Holmes´ eyes._

* * *

When Sherlock Holmes was born, everyone knew there was something in that little boy that would soon grow into an extraordinary mind.

It was displayed by his eyes, which have reflected a great brilliancy and wisdom since he opened them for the first time.

Of course people already assumed the newborn Holmes would have great magical powers, given the fact that he was -well, a _Holmes_ **.**

But never did they imagine that Sherlock would possess such strength when it came to his magic.

By the age of two, Mycroft found his baby brother on the floor of the library surrounded by floating books and tattered newspapers.

Sherlock was obviously having fun, pointing them in different directions.

His brother was more than shocked.

Never had anyone gained a comparable control over their magic at such a young age before. And it was always because of the usage of ancient words, which were needed to cast a spell.

Only few people could summon a spell without using them, and even in those cases the number of spells were limited.

Mycroft himself, being an ambitious young _Almighty,_ had successfully managed some without speaking words aloud.

He snipped with his fingers, causing the books and papers to fall with a loud thud on the floor and looked at Sherlock, who was now staring back. His eyes mirroring the anger he was feeling, caused by the disruption. Even being two years old now, he has never let a word slipped out of his lips. His tool for communicating was usually his eyes.

"Maa-coft..stubid..."

"Charming first words, little brother."

And with that he went out of the library, thinking if he should report the incident to his parents or not. He decided it was better to ignore it.

* * *

When Sherlock was twelve he came across the _bond_ for the first time. His family was invited to participate in the ceremony of a member of the household _Moriarty._

By the time the fire of the newly bonded couple was inflamed, he decided to take a walk through the unfamiliar mansion.

"You are not allowed to sneak around my rooms."

A young boy with raven hair, who was approximately the same age as him, appeared out of nowhere, exposing Sherlock, who was trying to climb up a ladder to reach some books.

"I was merely in the mood to educate myself with something _useful_ , instead of wasting my time watching two people being _bonded_ , such an unnecessary procedure."

The boy grinned at him.

"I see. I cannot share your opinion though. Being _bonded_ with someone can give you more power than you could ever achieve alone. It's not wise of you to despise something from which you could benefit, no no...," he chuckled after the last words, as if he had made a good joke.

Sherlock could see his eyes displaying such a coldness and malice, he had never seen in anyone before. Moreover, his magic seemed to be radiating around his body.

"Not my concern. I won't _need_ a _bond._ I'll prove to you that I'm strong enough without ..."

He was being interrupted by a voice, calling out a name.

" _Jim!_ "

The raven-haired boy turned to the voice.

"Coming, _Mother!..._ always interrupting me in my fun moments _."_

He whispered the last words before giving the other boy a broad smirk.

"No, you won't...Sherlock Holmes."

He left the library.

"Dull..." Sherlock didn't even ask himself how the other boy knew his name.

* * *

It happened when he had passed 27 winters.

His magic seemed to fail him from time to time. Casting a spell without a word was not possible anymore. He had to rely on words for the first time in his life.

"Sherlock...you know it's time."

"What time, Mycroft?"

"Don't be daft. You know what I mean. I'm surprised this instability didn't appear sooner. With such powerful magical resources, you should have been _bonded_ long ago."

"If you are that enthusiastic about _bonding_ why don't _you_ do it?" Sherlock replied, without taking his eyes off of the book he was reading.

"Because it's simply not my time but it is _yours_."

That kind of conversation would go on for days, when suddenly their parents had enough of it.

Sherlock was informed that the household Cooper would be more than pleased to see their daughter Molly having a bond with a Holmes.

"Mycroft you can't be serious."

"It was not my doing this time. I told you that denying Mummy's wish would just give her the reason to do what she wants. You know she has the propensity to do that, Sherlock."

"Redundant. The problem would have solved itself at some point."

"Well, it has now, hasn't it? Tomorrow is the day little brother. Try to at least be present at your own ceremony."

* * *

He saw the ocean...so deep blue.

Calming .

It was seconds later, when he realised the ocean belonged to the eyes of the person who fell upon him.

More seconds had passed when he realised that he wasn´t able to tell the person to get away from him.

Because he was being kissed.

_Kissed._

But there was more, much more.

Against his will, his lips parted and a mellow silver light was leaving his body, finding its way into the stranger's mouth.

It felt weird. But then, being kissed by a man couldn't be counted as something he had experienced on a daily basis.

Sherlock wasn't even completely sure if it was a man. The figure above him was covered in a big cloak, making it impossible to see if it was male or female.

Judging by the lips and the stubble ... _male_ then.

Something was wrong... the flow didn't want to come to an end. He could feel it was literally forcing its way into the other man's body.

He began to feel weak, when suddenly the connection was interrupted.

Sherlock saw uncertainty in those deep blue eyes. It must be the same way he looked right now.

A flame shot up to the ceiling.

There was a loud crack.

Nobody had moved or said anything.

Sherlock felt an emotion rising up in him... it took a moment for him to recognize it because he had never felt it before.

 _Confusion._..

What has happened?

* * *

When John felt the silver thing entering his mouth he panicked. It could be anything coming from that _Almighty._ Maybe it was some kind of poison to punish him or it was a secret weapon to kill any common person, who tried to touch one of them.

John knew how absurd that sounded but right now he was just done thinking clearly.

The silver light didn't feel uncomfortable or threatening. It just felt wrong.

He didn't know what it was, but he sensed that it had great difficulty forming the connection between the two of them.

Suddenly he could feel a great heat wave on his back, and then a loud noise.

Seeing that the silver thing has disappeared from his mouth, he tried to get up hastily.

It was a good thing the hood has remained on his head.

The _Almighty,_ though, was still lying on the ground. Eyes focused on the ceiling before muttering a word.

"Interesting."

With that word chaos started. Thousands of people were screaming, whispering, shouting at the same time. Molly Hooper has started sobbing, apparently knowing what has occurred.

* * *

_"Silence!"_

* * *

The _Almighty´s_ mother was trying to regain control over the situation.

"Stranger, who are you and how did you enter this household?"

By the tone of her voice, she was not amused about the incident that happened seconds before.

"Er..As I have tried to say...I am very sorry, Madame. I don't know, what I was thinking... clearly I wasn't thinking at all...I'm sorry...but..."

 _"Male_. Judging by his voice and height around _30_...or maybe a bit less. Smells like the dirty roads three hills from the mansion. _Common person_ then. Has a bit of blood under his nails and a strong smell of fish, accompanying the first one I've already mentioned. Probably a worker at the market, that takes place once a week. Given the fact that we needed food for today's event... _delivery_ _boy_ then. Now, what I don't know is, what is it with that big cloak you´re wearing? Faded colour and one side ripped. Often worn. But too scratchy to be wearing it for practical purposes. Either you're hiding a sickness, which has led to a rash on your body or you are covering yourself, ashamed of your outward appearance."

The _Almighty_ , previously laying on the floor, was looking at him now. Analyzing him, to be precise.

John wanted to tell him off. Saying that he should not judge people that easily without knowing anything about them.

But he was too amazed by the deduction, the other man had made in the short time, so all he managed to say was:

"Huh?"

"Maybe I should add reduced intelligence to the list."

"Sherlock, this is not the time for one of your insulting deductions. Do you realise what you have done?"

The man, who was talking with his brother in the library half an hour ago, stepped closer to them.

"No." Sherlock and John simultaneously answered.

"A _bond_ was created. You two are now irreversibly connected to each other."

"What? How is that possible? I am not even blessed with magic..."

Forever united with _this_ man? Not good.

Sherlock didn't say a word.

"I don´t know. We should retreat to our living room. There is much to discuss. Mother, don't worry. I will sort everything out. "

* * *

After having apologized to Molly and her family, they all settled down at the dining table.

John felt nervous. Would they blame him for everything that has happened?

He stole a glance towards Sherlock.

_Bondmate._

Strange. He examined the sharp cheekbones, the long fingers, the pale skin, and the shiny brown and curly hair, which fell a little bit into his face.

He stopped at the eyes. _God..._ those eyes could pierce him to death.

When Sherlock noticed him staring, he quickly looked away.

Mycroft began to speak first.

"What is your name and your profession?"

"John Watson. And I usually work at the market, as your brother has pointed out correctly."

"What I am wondering about is how you have gained access to our home at all."

John wanted to tell him about the cat when said animal made its way to the older Holmes' lap.

"Anthea. I was beginning to wonder where you were off to, my dear," Mycroft said, before stroking the shiny black fur.

"That's it!," John agitatedly exclaimed, "That's the cat! It was because of that cat I knew where to enter the mansion. It showed me the way through your hedge."

"You mean...because my cat had returned to our home through the hedge you decided to do the same? Very bold move, Mr. Watson" Mycroft´s left eyebrow rose up at the other man´s statement. John felt his face begin to redden. There was no excuse for his action indeed.

"Usually there is a barrier around our house. It is unexplainable how you´ve avoided it. Any _common_ person would have died in an instant, if he should have touched it. Not to mention the fire of your _bond_ , which has managed to destroy the cauldron that has served us for so many generations."

John felt sick. How great must his luck have been that he didn´t die at the hedge, when he followed the animal?

"Anyway, I will have that investigated. You, on the other hand, are not allowed to leave the mansion anymore."

John's head shot up.

"What do you mean I am not allowed to leave the mansion anymore? I am sorry for what I've done. I will pay anything possible if that would solve the problem..."

"Unfortunately it's not that simple. You are now _bonded_ to my brother and therefore must not leave his side. Any great distance from him would result in the death of the both you. Have you ever asked yourself why we don't show ourselves in the village?"

"Well...I assumed you didn´t want to be bothered by the _common_ people.."

Mycroft gave him an almost amused look.

"It is because of our magic we can't live with _common_ people for a long time. It would destroy them and absorb their life energy if we would decide to stay with them. It is a riddle to me why you haven´t shown the signs yet...Maybe it is because you are _bonded_ with Sherlock."

John cringed by the mention of being bonded with the _Almighty._

"But...my family...my work..."

"You shall say farewell to them. I'll accompany you when you see them for the last time. Don't worry. I'll be casting a spell so that nobody outside the mansion will ever remember you. Your family will be taken good care of."

"You mean...I have to abandon all of them? It was only an accident! I didn't mean anything to happen. It was merely an unfortunate accident." John was on the brink of panic now.

Sherlock arose from his seat. Looking at John's eyes firmly for the first time the _bond_ has occurred.

"An _unfortunate_ accident indeed. It was caused by your action so I see no problem in you taking responsibility for it," he said before leaving the room.

"Don´t worry about my brother. He behaves like that with everyone else, except for Mummy. Let´s just take a carriage and get this over with as soon as possible."

* * *

John told Mycroft to wait for him. This was his moment right now. He didn't want to share it with someone else.

"Hey John thought you were somehow stuck in that weird mansion, might as well have stayed there for a whole day."

Although Sally's remark appeared to be cheerful, he knew she was worried about him for the past hours.

"Yeah..well, something happened..."

"I hope everything's fine, John..."

"Sure. Everything's fine. Don´t worry."

Sally didn't seem to be convinced.

"You know you can always rely on me, John? I don´t have much but I'll always be there for you. You know that, don't you?"

John felt his legs shaking when he tried to hold back the urge to hug his friend.

"Hey Sal?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend, even when I gave you a hard time. Thank you for being there for me when nobody was."

"Hey. Don't get sentimental on me just because I offered you my open ear."

John managed to bring out something comparable to a laugh.

"No. Wouldn´t dream of it. But only if you won't get involved with that Anderson guy. I think he's staring at you again. Might as well shout his desire for you out for everyone to know."

" _John!"_

"It´s true. Just look at him. Disgusting." He laughed, then stopped for a few second before speaking again.

"I'll see you then, Sally. Take care of yourself."

And with that he quickly turned around to return to the carriage. Otherwise he would have broken down and told Sally everything that had happened. He was sure the _Almighties_ wouldn´t have been pleased with that.

Mycroft looked at him carefully when John opened the door.

"Ready for the last one?"

"You bet."

* * *

This one was the hardest.

John could feel his legs shaking badly now, as he approached the door of the bedroom.

His mother was sleeping, as always when he returned home.

He put his hand carefully on her arm, intending to wake her up.

"Hey Mum...wake up."

His mother stirred before she opened her eyes.

"John? What´s wrong? Are you finished with work?"

"Sort of...Mum, do you remember when I was playing at the cliffs with Harry, shortly after he left?"

His mother´s eyes darkened at the mention of her husband

"We were trying to catch a colourful butterfly for you as a present. You weren´t smiling for weeks so Harry and I thought it could be worth a try, to lure that smile with that butterfly."

His mother was still silent as John went on.

"Of course , young as we were , we didn´t know how dangerous it was, running on the cliffs... And I happened to slip on some wet stones, causing me to fall from the edge. I remember Harry shouting my name and calling out for you. When I woke up, you were there, holding me with one arm and Harry with the other. You were crying, saying that you couldn´t afford to loose one of us again because you loved us so much. And I guess Harry must have mentioned the butterfly because you repeatedly apologized to us and told us how stupid we were."

He didn´t look at his mother anymore. His vision was clouded by tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks.

"Do you remember, Mum?"

She stared at John and after seconds had passed , she said: "Yes..but..."

John interrupted her.

"I want you to remember this. I want you to remember that although Harry is far away now and I spent most of my time afar from you, we will always love you. Because you loved us back so much that you´ve put up with working yourself sick, remaining strong and receiving nothing but two little children, who were always complaining because of hunger."

His mother smiled now. It wasn´t the broad smile he used to see on good days but it was the first one he saw, since she got bedridden because of the illness.

"John, you silly boy, of course I had to take care of you two, you are my children, no matter what your father did. Now stop with those old stories. Make us something to eat. I suddenly feel very hungry."

She stroked his hair. Something she hadn't done for a long time because she usually looked at it with a hidden disgust. Then she closed her eyes, drifting into sleep again.

John rose from the bed. He went outside the house turning around to see the front door for the last time.

"Good bye, Mum. Take care of yourself. I love you," he whispered, before he returned to Mycroft.

When they rode back to the mansion the atmosphere was quite depressing.

"And you say they won´t remember me?"

"Don't worry. As I've promised, they won´t feel any of the grief of losing you. I will make sure that they will be comfortable, especially your mother. She will be having a better life than you could have ever given her."

John nodded silently, without looking at the older Holmes.

"There is one last thing I have to tell you, John...I don´t know how I should put it but... you have to share a room with my brother."

John looked up. Shocked.

" _What?_...Why? I thought your house was big enough to accommodate the whole village."

"Because the _bond_ demands sharing everything with your mate. It does not only count for magical resources but your physical ones as well."

"What does that mean?"

"To be frank, you have to be at his side every minute maybe even when you are sleeping."

At John's facial expression he added:

"Obviously not now I cannot imagine how that would function _now_ but unfortunately you have to, after some time. It is necessary or otherwise you will die. Or at least Sherlock will. The effect on common people has not been documented yet because there were no cases where one of them was bonded with an _Almighty_. I didn´t even think it was possible, until now."

"And what happens if one of us really dies?"

"If one of you dies, the other one will lose the magic that has previously served him."

"No worry for me then," John replied gruffly.

He directed John to a room, smaller than the library was but still big enough that two families could have slept in there.

"For tonight you are allowed to sleep alone. Rest well because tomorrow will be stressful. We have got many things to arrange. "

With one look at the hood, he added:

"And we have to do something about that thing. It cannot stay on your head any longer. Good night, Mr. Watson."

He closed the door.

John let his sight wander across the room. It was nice quite luxurious.

He crouched down on the floor beside the bed.

The room felt empty without the constant noises from outside.

John felt tears starting to roll down his face.

He had lost his friends today. His mother. Harry. His life. Everything he had worked for and loved.

For what?

For a life in this mansion that is now his prison, a bondmate who didn´t spare him a glance, not that he wanted him to do otherwise, of course not, he never felt so alone.


	3. Home! Sweet Home!

**Previously** **:**

_He has lost his friends today. His mother. Harry. His life. Everything he has worked for and loved._

_For what?_

_A life in prison in this mansion. A bondmate who didn´t spare him a glance. Not that he wanted him to do otherwise, of course not, but he felt so alone in this particular moment._

_And he´ll be damned if he wasn´t allowed to cry because of this. Even though he was a grown man._

_And with that, he wept himself into sleep, finally letting loose of the control, he had mantained for so many hours._

* * *

John awoke slowly.

At first, he thought it was because of the morning sun, which was peaking through the curtains, lighting up the dim room. With a moan, he realised it was rather because of the dull ache that spread through his back and shoulders.

"I really shouldn't have slept on the floor." He rose carefully and started towards the corner, where he usually washes his face.

It took him seconds to realise that this place was not his bedroom.

And then the memories came rushing through him.

The _bond_. Sally. His mum. His last farewells. His tears.

John sighed. When would he start getting used to all this...luxury? This new life?

"I see you're awake now, Mr. Watson. Would you be so kind as to join us for lunch? Sherlock will be there as well, and we have quite a lot to discuss about the next steps, concerning your relationship with him."

John was startled when Mycroft suddenly appeared at the door. He quickly rolled the sleeves of his cloak down, which had bunched up during sleep, but it didn't appear as though the other man had noticed anything.

"Yeah..of course...I mean...Lunch? Jesus...how long was I asleep?" He murmured to nobody in particular.

"I'll assume that's a rhetorical question to yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, we will be expecting you in 10 minutes."

John nodded as Mycroft turned and disappeared through the doorway. He quickly washed himself in a golden basin in the corner, wondering vaguely how much the object alone was worth.

The _Almighties_ really do live in comfort.

"Well, be thankful, John, he could have been poor..." he mumbled to himself.

He glanced at his reflection in the water. At least he still looked the same as always, hidden under his cloak. He wondered how long it would be before the Almighties demand to see his body uncovered.

* * *

Being bored at lunch was an understatement. Sherlock was thoroughly agonized and on the brink of murdering his brother if he had to continue listening to his tedious drawl.

"Sherlock, you can't deny that there is something peculiar about John. I mean, he literally just walked into our home. That is more than just a coincidence, especially with his luck. He is clearly more than a _common_ person."

"Listen to Mycroft, darling, you just have to bare with him a little longer. We'll find a way to dissolve your _bond._ Mummy won't let you be harmed by that stranger."

Listen? What was there to listen to?

It wasn't possible to reverse yesterday's events. _Bonding? Dull. Mycroft.? Annoying. Mummy? Annoying. Molly Hooper? Dull. His bondmate? God... beyond dull._

And speak of the devil, John entered the dining room with slow movements and heavy bags under his eyes. Twenty minutes late.

Probably slept on the floor. Not a good way to get decent night's sleep. He wondered if _common_ people always sleep on the floor. Maybe they couldn't afford a bed?

"Morning."

He could see John tense as his mother addressed him.

"Good morning, Mr. Watson. Next time I would prefer if you could keep to the schedule we set for you."

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Holmes, had some issues this morning. You can call me John, by the way, I feel a bit uncomfortable being called Mr. Watson. Everybody calls me by my first name, anyway, and I guess I'll have to accept the fact that I'll be staying here for a very long time, so lets just drop the formalities."

Mrs. Holmes stared at him as if he'd made a bad joke.

"Well, Mr. Watson, I agree with you that due to the _bond_ with my son, you are not allowed to leave here any time soon. I would assume Mycroft has informed you about everything?"

Sherlock exhaled contemptibly. As if he would need John to survive. Maybe other people would need their mates, but he was not like them. He could manage fine without John.

John nodded silently.

"Sherlock, I think you should show him where you two are going to live. Mrs. Hudson will be delighted to see you, she's been telling me you haven't stopped by to visit her for a while."

Mrs. Holmes took a final sip from her cup, before she and Mycroft excused themselves and left the room.

Awkward silence followed.

"So..uhm...what did she mean by living somewhere? I thought we were going to stay in the mansion."

"John, look around. The mansion is way too big to be occupied by only four people. It's much more than a house, it's a palace, a magical village, if you would prefer to think so. Every newly _bonded_ couple will receive their own place to live in. It's a part of getting to know your bondmate better."

John´s eyes hardened at the mention of the word couple.

"Show me the way, then."

* * *

They walked slowly, and for the first time Sherlock took the time to observe John's movements. Really observe.

He was still covered from head to toe in that ridiculous cloak, yet somehow managed to walk with an attitude of grace and pride.

So he didn't wear it because of insecurity regarding his outward appearance then.

"Why do you have to wear this thing, John?"

He saw the man press his lips into a tight line.

"Let's just say it's for self-protection."

"Don't be ridiculous. Who would harm you here? Everyone knows you've been _bonded_ to me by now, there's no need to be afraid. Nobody would dare to treat you badly."

John looked amused.

"Is this an attempt to make me feel better, Sherlock?"

Sherlock was surprised by himself. He knew the reason for wearing the cloak wasn't out of fear of the other _Almighties_ , so why did he feel the need to lie?

"No. Going out of my way to make others feel better….how would I benefit from that? Anyway, we have reached our destination."

_221B. Baker Street_

The address were printed in massive gold numerals on the door.

John didn't even realise there is a whole traffic system in the mansion. It kind of reminded him of a small village, just as Sherlock had said. Although they were still in the mansion, their new home appeared to be outside. It was surely just an illusion.

"Sherlock! It is such a delight to see you, my boy. I have truly miss your handsome face." A small, old woman appeared through the door, arms stretched outwards with intention, and John was surprise to see the _Almighty_ returning her embrace.

"Ahh, Mrs. Hudson, I've missed you too. Unfortunately, current issues have kept me from visiting."

He glanced at John on the last words. Before the other man could say anything, the woman grabbed his upper arms and pulled him into a hug as well, startling him.

"You must be John Watson, Sherlock´s _bondmate_. God...what´s the matter with that cloak? It´s awfully scratchy, that can't be comfortable. Just hand it over to me, dear, I'll put a cleaning-spell over it."

John didn´t know how to react first. It felt kinda nice, being loved and cared for by someone in this godforsaken place.

"No, thank you, but I don't think it's necessary. I'll wash it later."

Sherlock gave him a look, which suggested that he didn't believe a word of that lie.

"As you wish, dear. Sherlock, don't just stand there, show your _bondmate_ around the place. I've put a lot of effort in it, hearing that it was for you."

She winked at the Almighty, before she suddenly disappeared.

"Wow..she just...did you...Sherlock, did you see that?"

"Someone could actually think you have failed to grow a brain, John."

"What..."

He couldn't finish his sentence as Sherlock had already rushed up the stairs.

John gave up and followed the younger man inside instead. The interior was...extraordinary. He couldn't compare it to the corny and neat rooms he used to see in some upper class houses. Anybody would think the place was just messy, but Sherlock let his sight wander around the rooms, then sighed contently and with an "oomph" he swung himself onto a couch.

John didn´t know what to think about it.

"Well...this could be very nice. Very nice indeed. Just needs some cleaning though..."

"John, it's supposed to be this way," Sherlock said, without opening his eyes.

"What do you mean 'supposed to be this way'?"

"Sometimes I really do forget how little you common people know. You have already met Mrs. Hudson, haven´t you?"

John chose to ignore the insult.

"I believe so, yes..Sherlock, you were there with me."

"My point is, she's not just a kindly old lady, who, surprisingly, appears to be very fond of you. She is the landlady of all this."

"All this.."

"God ...don't be dull. As I have pointed out, she is the landlady. All those houses and places down the street, she's created them for generations. They are not just houses to be occupied by us. They're specially designed with consideration to our wishes, our hidden dreams and desires. What you see here is a place where we would feel secure and good all the time."

John looked around. Paper, books and various flasks were spread everywhere. And, Jesus...was that a skull on the mantel?

"We must have gotten the wrong house. I don't see how this is reflecting my vision of a comfortable home in any way."

"Mrs. Hudson is never wrong, John, don't complain. I feel very comfortable here, in case you're interested."

Sherlock smirked, but still didn't open his eyes.

"Great. Just great...Do you mind if I take a look around?

"Nobody's holding you back," Sherlock replied, attention now focused on some substance in a bowl.

* * *

After a few hours, they decided that they would take separate rooms for the beginning, both of them a little embarrassed about the fact that they would have to share a room after some time. But they wanted to wait until it was absolutely necessary to do so.

It was already dark outside and the sky was flooded with stars.

"Why won´t you just do as I've told you.."

A loud clank could be heard in the kitchen. John peered around the doorway to see what was going on, and was met with a clearly overstrained Sherlock, fumbling with a pan over the stove.

"Sherlock...what are you doing?"

"Can't you see? I'm making dinner."

"Would you enlighten me as to how fighting with a pan will result in dinner?"

Sherlock looked up to find an amused John Watson leaning against the door frame.

"Well...normally I would just use a spell to create something. But, unfortunately, being _bonded_ with you has resulted in some... complications regarding my magic."

"Is there something wrong with it?" John asked, concerned. Who knows what a _bond_ between an _Almighty_ and a _common_ person could do to their magical resources.

"There's nothing wrong with it. It just needs some time to adjust to the bond. Remember, we share some resources now. My magic just taking it's sweet time getting used to you."

"Oh..."

"I think I'll pass today. Bored. Don't need food, anyway." With that, he attempted to brush past John, who looked up at him with a confused expression.

"You're going to skip dinner because you can't handle a simple pan?"

"No, I'm going to skip dinner because I didn't need it anyway. You, on the other hand, could be heard through the walls."

"Me?"

"You and your disturbingly loud stomach. Just grumbling and growling...disturbing my work. I need silence, John, and the only solution was to feed you."

"I'm not a pet, Sherlock!... You say people just cast a spell and they have something to eat?"

"Not people. I do. Casting a food spell is considered a very difficult task, few can do it. There are a lot of things which cannot be created with magic."

"So that´s why you needed food for your ceremony. And I thought Almighties just had to snap their fingers and get anything."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"So..uhm...how long did you skip food for?"

Sherlock tried to cast a spell to boil some eggs on the table but had to give up after a few tries.

"Three days."

"What, three...three days? You're telling me you haven't eaten for three bloody days? Are you crazy?"

"It's not the time to exaggerate. I don't think 'crazy' does me justice...I like being focused on what is important. Eating is something I would consider redundant."

"Redundant?"

"I think we should really get your ears checked, John, they're worse than Mrs. Hudson's."

Next thing he knew, Sherlock was being shoved onto the chair next to a cupboard. he looked up at John, who was staring down at him with a determined expression that didn't allow questions.

"Sit. I'm going to make us something."

Sherlock normally didn't like being told what to do but there was something in John's voice that told him it was probably better just to follow his demand.

He watched as John started up a fire, cracked some eggs, fried potatoes...

He didn't want to admit it, but it was quite fascinating watching the man bend over the fire and cutting the vegetables with a speed he couldn't replicate without magic. He watched beads of sweat rolling down John's forehead, his cheeks, his neck, before disappearing under the cloak.

After some minutes of silence, he was presented with a plate full of food, which smelled marvellous in the little kitchen.

"Eat. It's not the best I have made but there was little in the cupboard. What happened to the food? Everything was fully stocked this morning."

"Burnt it."

"You burnt it? You... actually, don't want to know."

Sherlock scooped a portion onto his spoon and began to eat. It tasted delicious. He hadn't even realized he was actually starving until the second bite.

"Is it good?" John watched him expectantly.

"Acceptable."

"That's okay. At least you're eating."

They continued on in silence for a while until Sherlock broke it.

"Who taught you this?"

"What? Cooking? Had to do it since I was a little child. Unlike you I grew up having to deal with hardships and difficulty in my family."

"How do you know that, John?"

"What?"

"That I didn't face difficulties in my childhood."

John didn't know what to say. Didn't all children from Almighties have everything they ever wanted?

After they had finished the meal they decided it was time to get some sleep.

"Good night, Sherlock." John looked around, but the other man was already in his bedroom.

"Didn´t expect you to warm up after some talk and food." John sighed and hoped he would get some rest tonight.

* * *

_Oh God... was he not even allowed to get at least some sleep._

John was wide awake in his bed, at the fault of the Almighty in the room under his. Sherlock had been practicing on his violin for the past few hours now. At first, John was captivated by the music. It sounded so pure and beautiful. But after three hours, every beauty was slowly replaced by his craving for sleep.

He couldn't take this anymore.

"Please Sherlock, could you please stop with the music and let normal people have their rest?"

"There you are John, I'd expected you a bit sooner. I am afraid I have to disappoint you in that matter. Now is the perfect time to hit some strings." To underline his comment Sherlock began another piece, too loud and incredibly fast.

John knew that getting angry wasn't going to do anything productive, so he decided to give up this time.

"As you wish, Sherlock. I'm going out now. Need some fresh air."

Sherlock didn't answer him but jumped up an octave, making it sound like some sort of musical cat was dying.

The sky was beautiful in these hours. John could see the moon and the stars sparkling and some part of him longed to be outside of the mansion, viewing the stars from the bench near his old home.

"Sodding bastard with his sodding music."

He came to a halt when he caught sight of a pristine lake in the middle of nowhere.

The water reflected every single star. It was beautiful.

He knew it wasn't really a good idea, but he ventured closer to explore the water. Since his accident on the cliffs, he feared nothing more than being drowned again, and he'd never learned how to swim.

He was so concentrated on not slipping and falling into the lake that he didn't notice the hole.

Just when he thought he was standing securely, his foot caught on it's edge and he tumbled forward.

John didn't even have the time to register the icy feeling as his body hit the water.

* * *

Sherlock didn't exactly know why he'd decided to follow John. Part of him didn't care about his _bondmate_ but a stronger part of him was curious as to what the other man would get up to tonight.

It was no surprise when John stopped by the lake.

The sight could be overwhelming for some, upon seeing it for the first time.

He sighed, deciding that this was pointless and turning to head home when he heard a loud "splash". He spun around in time to see the tails of John's cloak disappear under the water.

"Really, John? Again? And I would have thought you'd have learned how to keep your balance by now."

He waited for a couple of minutes for John to resurface, but concern started weighing on his mind as time ticked on and John didn't resurface.

"What are you up to, John?"

* * *

He felt as if he was floating. Almost like a feather in the air.

Except he was in water.

John knew something was wrong. What was wrong?

Then he remembered. The butterfly. He wanted to catch the butterfly with his sister, but suddenly the cliff had disappeared from under his feet. It is nice, though. Being in the water.

It was silent. He hadn't heard true silence since his father left. How ironic.

John began to feel cold and he knew his body screamed for air but he couldn't do it. His limbs were too heavy to move. And it does feel nice in the water.

Surely it couldn't be too bad if he closed his eyes for a minute, could it? It couldn't be that bad to escape the outside world and enjoy this silence for just a little while longer...

And he closed his eyes.

It felt nice.

* * *

Sherlock couldn't wait any longer. John should have resurfaced a long time ago, but there was no sign of his _bondmate._

He tried to cast a spell but, it didn't work.

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect time to fail me." His magic still wouldn't function.

But John Watson dying meant it would disappear forever.

With a grimace he took off his coat and dove into the lake, searching for the _common_ man. He was surprised by how deep the water was.

Sherlock almost gave up, when he caught sight of the cloak. That ratty cloak that john had refused to take off since the day they met.

He swam towards the figure and realised that the other man's eyes were closed. The _Almighty_ gathered him up in his arms and strained towards the surface, but he was too heavy.

_The cloak._

He silently cursed the piece of clothing and tried to open it with skilled fingers. There wasn't much time left, his own lungs were starting to burn. And God knows if John was even still alive

Finally, his efforts were rewarded, and he watched for a moment as the dark fabric sunk slowly to the lake's muddy floor.

With great effort, Sherlock swam towards the surface, gasping desperately for air as he broke through and was met once again with the twinkling night sky.

He laid John carefully on the ground. His eyes were still closed and Sherlock quickly realized he was no longer breathing.

But what caught him by surprise was his hair.

John's hair was outshining the moon and the stars in the sky.

* * *

**Next chapter: You surely don´t think that S and J would just happily live in their new home until they die...that would be boring. Be prepared for a lot of fun stuff coming in the next chapter.**


	4. Of Wood And Summerbreezes

**Previously:**

With great effort, Sherlock swam towards the surface and when they broke through it, he desperately gasped for air.

He laid John carefully on the ground. His eyes were still close and Sherlock could see he was not breathing.

But what caught him by surprise was his hair.

John´s hair was outshining the moon and the stars in the sky.

* * *

"What..."

Sherlock didn´t have time to inspect the new discovery about his _bondmate._ John was still not moving and every second he wasted to explore his hair was a wasted one to revive him.

He took his _bondmate´s_ head in between his hands and brought his ear down to ascertain if he was still not breathing. He heard nothing. Sherlock grabbed his wrist to take his pulse. It was present but weak and unsteady.

"No, John. Don´t do this to me."

He didn´t know how to treat a half dead man. Every time such a case had occurred, he only relied on his magic. Sherlock didn´t know what to do. Every second John was not breathing would eventually mean he would lose him, and his magic.

He began slapping the other man, hoping it would wake him up. John´s head rolled alternately to the right and left. His lips became an unhealthy shade of blue.

Sherlock stopped. This method won´t work. _Think. Think._ Suddenly he had an idea.

The man needed oxygen, didn´t he?

"John...you owe me one." And without hesitation he captured the other man´s lips with his own.

* * *

_"No, John. Don´t do this to me"_

"Harry?"...John was sure he had never heard his sister sound that angry before. Did he do something wrong? Suddenly he felt himself being slapped. Right. Left. It hurt and he wanted Harry to stop but he couldn´t bring himself to say it. Everything hurt. He must've done something terribly wrong because he couldn´t remember being this violated by her.

Maybe the person slapping him was not his sister at all. The strikes felt as if they were given by a man.

And then everything stopped. _Thank God_.

The joy didn´t last long. John felt his mouth being opened against his will and soft lips pressing against his.

_Please, don´t let it be Harry. That would be so awkward._

But the question was, if it wasn't his sister... then who was the other person?

* * *

Sherlock didn´t consider himself religious, it was absolutely not his cup of tea. He despised every sort of religion. What was the point in believing in a higher power when there was no proof of it? Stupid.

But tonight he prayed that whatever he was doing would work. He couldn´t imagine life without his magic. What would he be worth without his magic? And John...well...John could be useful in the future...

One. Two. Three. He counted the breaths he gave his _bondmate._ The other man´s cheeks were puffing out, but there was still no signs of life. Sherlock nearly gave up when suddenly John´s eyes were wide open.

There was a gasp and some wheezing. He quickly rolled John to the side, so the other man was able to cough out the water in his lungs.

"Oh _thank God_. I have begun to think that our _bond_ would have only lasted for three days."

* * *

When John opened his eyes, his sight was met with concerned grey eyes, a beautiful mist.

He blinked and looked up and saw damp, curly brown hair.

No, this person wasn't his sister at all.

Suddenly he felt uneasy. He needed to breathe. But how?

When he regained consciousness over his body, the first thing he felt was soft skin on his lips. So warm...but the comfortable feeling was shortly replaced by the urge to empty the contents of his stomach all over the grass. Sherlock watched John retching upon the grass. When he felt confident enough to speak, his first word was the name of his _bondmate_.

"Sher..Sherlock?" John didn´t know his voice could sound that miserable.

"Last time I looked at my reflection, yes, John."

"You.." John had to swallow to produce a sound, „You kissed me..."

"I did not _kiss_ you. I had to save your life. You were not breathing and the only way to get you back to breathing was to provide you with oxygen."

John looked closely at the other man´s face. Sherlock was wet all over his body and his eyes were displaying anger.

"So...uhm..sorry."

"I am afraid ´s _orry´_ will not cover everything up in this case. You nearly died, John."

John withstood the urge to smirk at his comment.

"Don´t worry. I've had it worse in my life. But it's always nice to see that you do care about me."

Sherlock snorted at that.

"Who said that I do? You nearly destroyed everything. Be more careful in the future before you decide to throw my magic away by dying. Might I add that dying by stumbling and falling into a lake is not exactly a dignified death. Did you never learn how to stand properly?"

John didn´t want to admit how much this insult hurt. So, he was no more than a tool for Sherlock, a tool which was connected to his magic. Sure, he didn´t expected to be friends with him but being in the same unlucky situation...he had hoped there was at least some understanding from Sherlock. Guess he was wrong.

"By the way, I had to remove your cloak."

There was a long silence after that. John wasn´t even sure he heard right.

"You did what..." It wasn´t a question it was more a whispered thought as John´s right hand moved up to touch his head. The usual scratchy hood was now replaced with soft, damp hair, his golden hair.

"Don't you think it's a bit ridiculous, covering yourself up because of your hair? Indeed, there are few people who possess gold on their body but really, John? Wearing this awful thing day after day because of a hair colour? And here I thought the reason for doing so was more interesting, more exciting, and more...reasonable and not this...dull."

John couldn´t think, he could barely suppress his anger, which had grown tremendously during Sherlock´s speech.

"You had no right, and I´ll repeat myself, Sherlock, _no bloody right_ to take it off. You have no right to judge me either. You don´t know a single thing about me. ...you...just had no right to do that..." John was sure the cough followed by his words would kill him.

Sherlock only raised an eyebrow at that.

"You're welcome by the way...for saving your life."

"Who´s fault was it that I ended up being outside to begin with?"

"Strange. I can recall that it was _your_ feet that left the house and _your_ own feet that tripped and led you into this whole mess."

Despite his aching throat and the bone-crushing feeling in his chest John raised his voice a few volumes higher.

"Why can´t you just behave like a normal person, Sherlock? Why do you have to deduce other people? Why do you have to play the violin in the middle of the night? Are you proving a point to someone? Why do you always have to be right about _everything?_ " He practically screamed the last word.

Sherlock looked at him for a few second before he stood up, intending to leave. John imagined that for a moment, something flickered in the other man´s eyes.

"Your actions led to this _bond_. I guess you have to accept me for who I am," Sherlock whispered more to himself than to John.

" _Fine."_

"Fine."

John could only stare after his _bondmate_. Of course only he would argue with someone, who has saved his life moments ago. He knew it wasn´t fair to Sherlock but this situation was different. Now Sherlock knew that he was a golden person. Strangely he didn´t seem to mind. Or he was still too shocked about that. John didn´t wanted anyone to know.

He was angry and afraid at the same time. What would an _Almighty_ do with someone like him? Would he spend the rest of his life in a cage?

His first thought was to run away. But where? He had no home. His current home was this godforsaken house with a man, who clearly despised him.

How was it possible for him to leave in this state, anyway?

Without his cloak everybody would see him. Seize him. Not to mention the fact that his leaving would result in the death of Sherlock.

With a moan he rose up and headed to Baker Street.

* * *

When he attempted to go upstairs to his room, he saw that Sherlock lit a fire while he was outside. The living room was flooded by warm light.

"John, come over here."

John was confused. What was Sherlock´s intention? Had he already forgotten their argument? He hesitantly stepped into the room and saw Sherlock sitting in front of the fire. The A _lmighty_ was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face,

"Take your clothes off."

"Excuse me?" Now John was really afraid. He had heard of physical violence against people who were like him.

When Sherlock read his facial expression he let out a contemptuous noise.

"It´s not what your funny, little head thinks it is. Don´t be childish, John. We are both clearly suffering from mild hypothermia. We need to warm up quickly. And since my magic has still not returned to me, we have to do it the old-fashioned way, by sharing our body heat."

John was lost for words. Sherlock was already beginning to remove his damp upper shirt. Though the room was dimmed he could see that the _Almighty´s_ skin was pale and smooth, almost as if it was carved out of marble. He felt ashamed of his own body.

Sherlock was patiently waiting for him to follow his example and remove his wet clothes as well.

"John...there is nothing in the world that I have not seen. As long as you don´t have four arms or a hidden head underneath your shirt, I´m sure you will do well."

"It´s not because...I...You don´t know that..." How should John explain to him that although there were no hidden body parts, it was distorted?

"It´s cold. Hurry up. You do possess ears, don´t you, John? Why does it always seem that you don´t understand what I am saying?"

John bit down on his cheeks hard. Now was not the time to be ashamed, indeed. They needed to share the warmth. He could already feel his toes going numb.

He slowly brought his shirt up over his head and pulled.

* * *

Sherlock didn´t know what to think about John´s outburst earlier. When he went back to the house he couldn´t deny that his _bondmate_ had opened up some old wounds.

_"Why can´t you just behave like a normal person, Sherlock?"_

Normal person? Not really his area.

The fact that he always tried to deduce other people had resulted in some difficulties in his childhood. His behaviour didn´t help him out, either. The truth is, Sherlock didn´t trust anyone. How can people say certain things about themselves, when every part of their body tells another story? Deducing other people has often shown him the true sides of people, who only wanted to exploit their power. Even now, being an adult, he knew some people wanted nothing more than to be a part of their household. As for his behaviour, well, he wouldn´t change himself.

He thought at least John would understand. What a disappointment.

And a surprise at the same time. _Golden hair._ Who would have thought that John would be one of the rare kinds?

Interesting...but not overly spectacular. Hiding beneath that cloak was more than unnecessary. Sooner or later he would have found out.

When he heard John´s footsteps approaching the stairs he could have ignored him. His pride told him to do so but he was fully aware that ignoring the only way to get warm again could be dangerous.

When he stripped off his shirt he waited impatiently for John to do the same.

His _bondmate_ seemed kind of distressed with the idea of being in such close proximity to him.

Redundant.

"It´s cold. Hurry up. You do possess ears, don´t you, John? Why does it always seem that you don´t understand what I am saying?"

He saw John struggling for a few second before he pulled his shirt off.

What he then saw surprised him for a moment.

He expected the other man to have a normal build. Underneath the coverage of his clothes he almost appeared to be overweight, to be honest.

How wrong he was.

In the flicker of the fire he could see that John´s body destroyed his imagination completely.

His skin was well tanned. Slight definitions of muscles threw shadows over his chest. Scars could bee seen over his arms, his chest, and on almost every part of his body. They were small, though. Not really thick enough to be seen but Sherlock was close enough to count every single one of them.

This was not the body of an ordinary man.

It was one of a fighter, a man who had faced danger and threatening situations in his life.

John surprised him more and more.

He saw the other man turning his head in shame.

"Don´t look at me like that..."

"As I have said before, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I think we are old enough to face this situation as calmly as possible."

John only nodded at Sherlock and waited for him to get a blanket.

When Sherlock returned he was already sitting in front of the fire.

They decided it was more comfortable for them if Sherlock was the one who sat behind John because of his longer limbs.

The blanket was thrown over Sherlock´s shoulders and John´s chest.

The _Almighty_ could sense his _bondmate´s_ smell. John smelled like a fresh wind. Almost like a warm summer breeze.

He decided that he liked that smell.

After few minutes Sherlock noticed a large scar on John´s left shoulder. It was not like the other ones, which were thin and almost invisible. This one has a thicker structure and was still an angry red. He leaned closer with his face to study it.

* * *

John would've been thankful if the floor would have swallowed him up at that moment.

Feeling uncomfortable was an understatement. He was almost naked with Sherlock behind his back. _Sherlock._ His toes and hands were thankful for the warmth, though.

He breathed in Sherlock´s scent of wood and tobacco mixed with some foreign smell he couldn´t categorise. He didn´t know his _bondmate_ smoked but his scent was...nice.

And he didn´t want to admit it but being in that sort of embrace with him was kind of nice, too. Sherlock´s chest felt exactly the same as it looked, smooth and comfortable.

John felt Sherlock´s nose touching his shoulder and he tensed up. Right... his scar.

He braced himself for a comment about it.

"Interesting."

Well, that was not what he had expected.

"Interesting?"

"How did you come by all these scars?"

John closed his eyes. Unpleasant memories flooded his mind.

"I...well...I had some problems because of my hair colour."

"Your hair is golden. I know that already. So what?"

John exhaled heavily.

"Did you know that some people hunt for people like me? People with golden hair...we seem to be some sort of protection against dark magic. They would chase us when they knew we had golden hair. And when they succeeded they would sell us as if we were goods or objects that were supposed to serve the upper class." He let out a chuckle after the last words.

Sherlock still looked at the scar on John´s shoulder.

"So the scars...they are.."

"They remind me of my numerous escapes, yes."

Sherlock was impressed. John was braver than he thought.

"If it would ease your mind, I don´t believe in that nonsense."

"Unfortunately many people do. _Almighties,_ too. That´s why you can´t tell anybody. Please, Sherlock. I can´t go through that again."

Sherlock didn´t answer him. But his reassuring hand on John´s shoulder was answer enough.

John was secretly thankful for that.

"I´m sorry."

"For what, John?"

"Look, what I said earlier..."

"I don´t care about that."

"You don´t?"

John turned his head to Sherlock. In this proximity he could see every spot on the other man´s face. Sherlock looked him in the eyes.

"I have received that kind of reaction since I was a little child. So...I don´t mind anymore."

John felt guilt rising in him and turned his face back to the fire. He had never wanted to hurt him with those words.

He was tired.

"What do you think will happen if someone sees us like this?"

"I don´t know what they could possibly think, John."

"You know...people might talk."

"People do little else."

John grinned. He felt himself leaning heavier against Sherlock. Exhaustion consumed him. It was beginning to be more difficult to keep his eyes open.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for saving my life."

He didn´t know if his last words were heard because he quickly fell asleep after them.

* * *

"I leave you alone for one day and the next moment I find you half naked with my brother on the floor?"

John´s eyes snapped open. When he saw Mycroft Holmes bending over them, his first instinct was to hide his hair. Surprisingly, it was already hidden under a cap. _Sherlock._ John thanked him silently for that.

"What do you want, Mycroft?"

Sherlock was still lying down with his eyes closed. His brother gave him a smirk.

"Be happy. Mummy and I found a way to dissolve your bond."

* * *

**Next chapter: What´s the solution ? Are S and J really going to dissolve their bond?**


	5. The Legend

**Previously:**

_-"What do you want, Mycroft?"_

_Sherlock was still laying with his eyes closed. His brother gave him a smirk._

_-"Be happy. Mummy and I found a way to dissolve your bond."_

* * *

John immediately sat up. Sherlock observed his brother with an unimpressed facial expression.

"What? How?"

Mycroft waited theatrically for a few seconds before he answered John.

"It was very difficult at the beginning. You don't know how Mother can behave sometimes..."

"I believe he asked about the method to dissolve our bond, Mycroft, not about the story of how you played treasure hunting with _Mummy_."

His brother seemed to be slightly embarrassed by Sherlock's comment.

"Oh...of course. There is apparently only one method to solve our problem, to be more precise a _thing_. It's the _flame of Noyta."_

Sherlock snorted.

"And here I thought you had done something useful this time." He took the blanket and pulled it over his head, intending to shut the rest of Mycroft's explanation out.

John first looked at Sherlock then at Mycroft.

"What is this _thing_? This flame of No…No..."

"The _flame of Noyta,_ John," came Sherlock's muffled voice from under the blanket, "Mycroft will just tell you a little fairy tale. Don't bother with him. There is no such thing as a magical _flame_."

"Apparently, there is. This time I am very sure about it. Even Mummy is convinced."

"How?" John's confusion grew as the seconds passed by.

"Someone from the household _Moriarty_ saw it with their own eyes."

"Don't be ridiculous, brother. There is no way he could have seen the _flame._ It is non-existent."

"I am quite sure it does exist, and you two are going to conquer it."

John let out a laugh at the other man's declaration.

"Sherlock says there is no flame. But you, on the other hand, say there is proof of it? Which is the truth?"

Mycroft turned and faced him.

"There is going be a competition during the next full moon. The _flame_ was last seen between the properties of the three households. The _Almighties_ all over the world have discussed whether the household _Moriarty_ should keep it or not because they were the first to discover the location of the _flame._ They came to the conclusion that only the strongest among our kind is worthy to possess such a powerful source _,_ hence the competition. They are sending the best fighters from their households. Time could not be more perfect, little brother. If you would participate, I am sure there is a high chance of winning."

Sherlock pulled the blanket back, revealing his eyes.

"Fighting? Barbaric. Not really my area."

"Wait, so you are saying that all we have to do is to defeat the other _Almighties_ and we will get the _flame_? Sherlock. Do it. Why not seize the chance?"

"John, it's not that easy."

"Of course... you are telling me again that something is not that easy. Seriously, can't anything be easy once in a while?"

Sherlock didn't try to hide a hint of a smirk.

"If I have to participate in this competition you have to fight with me."

"Sorry, you know I don't have magic."

Mycroft seemed to feel sorry for him.

"It is a rule that _bondmates_ are to fight together. It can be very dangerous for you, John. Whereas other _couples_ can use their combined power, you and Sherlock don't have that privilege."

"Don't be ridiculous. My strength is enough to overshadow everyone else."

John could do nothing more than look at him with pleading eyes. He felt hope rising in him at the thought of returning to his family again.

"So...you are going to do it?"

Sherlock didn't answer his _bondmate_ for a while before his determined attitude was replaced with defeat.

"I think there is no other possible way, if we want our _bond_ to be solved. Do not expect me to believe in this nonsense, though."

John was so happy he could have hugged Sherlock if he knew for certain that the other man wouldn't mind.

"But...even _if_ we win. How is this thing going to solve it? And where can I return to? You replaced everyone's memory of me..." John's facial expression turned into a sad smile.

"Don't worry. I changed their memories but in this short period it will be possible to restore everything. Regarding the other question, I think there is some explaining to do. It would be best if my brother would enlighten you. You should use the time to prepare for the competition. I will leave you alone now. Good day, Mr. Watson." He nodded at Sherlock before he turned to leave.

John watched his _bondmate_ folding up the blanket, which has provided them with warmth during the night.

He blushed when he remembered how close they were while sleeping.

"Last night was...good. Thanks again Sherlock, for saving me and not letting me drown and for preventing Mycroft from seeing my hair."

"I hope you haven't forgotten that my magic depends on your life. Although last night was something I wouldn't consider the worst experience I've ever had, I'd be rather grateful if you would be more careful in the future."

"Yes...of course."

John did know that magic was a very important factor in his _bondmate's_ life. But he didn't fall into the lake on purpose, did he?

As he made his way to the kitchen he heard Sherlock speaking. It was just loud enough to be heard.

"And John...you are welcome, by the way."

With a smile on his lips, John began to prepare breakfast.

 _A very nice morning, indeed._ He thought to himself.

* * *

After breakfast, or to be accurate, John's breakfast (because Sherlock refused to touch his food); they decided to explore their new hometown.

The _Almighty_ received a message right after his _bondmate_ finished eating.

In answer to the question of who had sent him the message, Sherlock only took his coat and told John to follow him.

"Sherlock, where exactly are we going?"

"Work to do, John."

"Work? I didn't see you working. Do _Almighties_ even work?"

"You will see soon enough."

They left Baker Street. Sherlock decided it would be faster to walk.

"Where are we going?"

"You're repeating yourself, John" After a while the younger man suddenly let out a joyful sound.

"Oh it's brilliant this time! Four victims and no traces of magic whatsoever. Work of a professional. It must be our lucky day, John. Usually those cases only appear in the more stressful months."

Sherlock didn't try to hide his excitement, leaving John more confused than moments before.

"What are you talking about?"

"No more talking. The game is afoot!"

His answer didn't help John at all but he decided it would be for the better to silently follow the _Almighty._

When they arrived in front of a large mansion, similar to Sherlock's, they came to a halt.

_Lestrade._

"So..this must be the household _Lestrade._ What are we doing here, Sherlock?"

"Just follow me."

As the two men approached the door, a man was already waiting for them.

John thought he couldn't be more than 35 winters old but he was already showing signs of grey.

"Ahh..Sherlock. What's taken you so long? I've been waiting for two hours."

"Time. Appointments. Redundant. Now to what is really important...what do you have for me this time. Who is it?"

The other man closed his eyes and wrinkled his forehead as if he was already annoyed with the _Almighty_ before he opened them again and recognized his company.

"Good morning. I'm Gregory Lestrade. You can call me Greg. You must be John Watson, Sherlock's _bondmate_."

John took the hand which was offered to him and smiled in return.

"Yes, nice to meet you. Can I ask you a question, since Sherlock won't give me any explanation?"

"Sure. That's Sherlock for you."

He gave the tall man a grin.

"I'm still here, Lestrade."

"What are we doing here?"

"You see, John. My household is famous for helping others. Instead of hiding from _common people,_ we would often use our magic to ease their pain. Or help them with their problems."

Sherlock looked at him.

"Nobody cares about their little problems. Now move forward and tell him the interesting parts."

"Just let me explain, would you Sherlock? What I mean is that my department exists to maintain the social structure of the village. You know, trying to keep peace between everyone but now and then, people turn into murderers and I have to help bring justice concerning those cases. From time to time, even _Almighties_ are considered the culprits and it's getting difficult to find out, who the murderer is. You see, magic makes people different. The more powerful you are, the more difficult it is to catch you."

His face showed signs of disgust as he explained the last part to John.

"And what part does Sherlock play in all of this?"

"Sherlock is really powerful. I know, I'll probably regret this and it will make your ego rise even higher but I have to admit that he is often the only one, who can help us to solve those cases, where murderers are simply too powerful and intelligent to catch."

John looked stunned for a second.

"You are telling me you are some kind of detective? That's your work?"

"I would consider myself to be more like a consulting detective."

Lestrade huffed.

"Whatever you wish yourself to be, Sherlock. Now, I wouldn't have called you this early if it wasn't important."

"It's him, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's him."

John looked alternately between the two _Almighties_. He still didn't exactly know what was going on but he just accepted the fact that his _bondmate_ was leading a dangerous life.

And he liked that.

"The body is with Molly."

"Molly?"

"Yeah...your almost- _bondmate_."

Sherlock grimaced.

"I can't help with that. Let's go."

"Where again?"

"We are going to see some dead people. Should be fun."

* * *

When they arrived at the rooms, which were in the lower parts of the mansion, John suddenly felt coldness seeping through his body.

"It's very cold."

"Don't worry. That's Molly. It is a spell. Her specialty. It's important to keep the bodies in a low temperature environment."

John shivered at the thought of being surrounded by corpses.

When they opened the door he was confronted with a familiar face.

"Sherlock! And...his _bondmate_."

In front of him stood the woman, who was supposed to _bond_ with the younger Holmes.

He instantly felt sorry for her.

"Hello..hmm...nice to meet you again. I'm John."

She looked at him. Her facial expression didn't show any hatred at all. She was merely examining him.

"Hello. I'm Molly."

"Yes. I know...look...that thing with me and Sherlock being _bonded_ and all...what I mean is...I'm very sorry."

He hoped his apology was accepted by her. After all, it was his fault that she didn't get _bonded_ with Sherlock. And she seemed to be very fond of the _Almighty_.

"Oh...that's...no, I'm not angry, John."

John looked closely at her. She almost appeared to be...relieved?

"I always knew that someone like me wasn't suited for a brilliant mind like his. Not that I wanted him in _that_ way. I mean, he isn't ugly. He is handsome. No...not like...I mean...suitable for _bonding_." She paused before she could embarrass herself further. Then she looked between Sherlock and him.

"But it seems you are."

John didn't know exactly what she meant by that comment.

"No. Don't say that, Molly. You deserve a good man, a great _bondmate_ who will treat you with care. I'm sure you will find the right one."

He felt himself blushing as the words left his mouth.

"Thanks, John."

"And our _bond_ will be solved, anyway."

"Solved?"

"Yes. Mycroft found a way. It's called the _flame of Noyta._ "

Molly's eyes widened for a second before she smiled.

"Do you know anything about it? Sherlock won't tell me anything. He thinks its nonsense."

"A lot of our kind thinks the same way. There is just no proof of the _flame_."

"And you? What do you think about the _flame_?"

"Me?" After a short moment of thinking Molly answered him.

"Well...I think it's a very romantic story, a very sad legend." She looked as if her heart would break any second by the pure mention of the _flame of Noyta_.

"Please tell me about the legend."

She looked at Sherlock, who was observing a body and not paying attention to them, at all.

Turning her head to John again she began to speak.

_"The legend says that long before the earth was formed as we know it, there were only a handful of magical creatures. They called themselves the Almighties."_

John eyebrows rose in amusement.

"Really? The _Almighties_? How long has your kind existed?"

"We are a very old race, John. There is a reason why we can afford this luxury. Should I continue now?"

"Yes, please. I'll be quiet."

"As I have mentioned before, there were only a handful of them.

_Owern, the oldest of the Almighties was a very wise man. He had five children. Their names were Pheny, Kornyl, Tusax, Drisok and finally...Noyta. They grew up in a forest, where they were surrounded by the magic of nature._

_Noyta, unlike her siblings, showed true talent concerning her strength when she was very young._

_In addition to it, she seemed to be always keen on discovering new areas, where she could play all day long._

_Her brothers often didn't approve of her reckless behaviour. But they couldn't do anything about it because of Owern, who loved her very much._

_One night, when Noyta would roam around the forest as she always did, she was shot with an arrow. The arrow had come from a man, who was a common person._

_He had mistaken her for an animal, ready to be put on the dining table. When he realized that it was a girl, who was in great pain because of him, he immediately took her to his village for treatment._

_Before they arrived, the man was more than surprised to see that the wound had healed it self."_

* * *

_"_ Healed it self? Can you do that, too?"

Molly laughed.

"No. Healing yourself is very powerful magic. Actually, I think she was the only _Almighty_ who was ever able to do that.

_When he laid her down, she opened her eyes and saw a common man for the first time in her life._

_His strange behaviour immediately fascinated her. And the man was quite pleased with the girl, too. Although first afraid of her because of her magic, they soon became attached to each other._

_It didn't last long for Noyta. When she tasted his flesh for the first time it wasn't enough for they would make love to each other every night._

_Unfortunately her father, Owern, discovered her new love and was more than furious about it. In his opinion the common man was not worthy of her great magic. He sent her brothers to capture him so he could convince him to leave his daughter alone._

_Her siblings, though, were always envious of Noyta and her powers. They decided not to capture him but to kill him._

_When Noyta arrived at their usual meeting point, she was confronted with the sight of her dying lover._

_Full of grief she tried everything to save his life but soon had to stop after she realized that her common spells would do nothing against the combined power of her brothers._

_So as her last act she gave the man her power. Because she loved him so much that it would have cost her sanity to lose him. But the power was not enough. In a desperate situation, she was willing to give up her soul for him, too._

_It is said that during her last breaths she emitted a golden light, a powerful flame, which outshined everything, even the sun. Her love was so pure and full of honesty that her magic had refused to leave her completely. As a result she became a flame. The flame of Noyta._

_The flame has the strength to dissolve any magic. It is the most powerful magical source you can find._

_When Owern found out about the incident he was very angry with his sons._

_As punishment they were ordered to carry the burden of a hundred lives on their shoulders until the end of time._

_The earth as we know it was formed._

_Owern himself grieved for many years and his tears formed the oceans in this world._

_Many decades passed until he had children again. But this time no one ever came close to Noyta's power._

_Time went by and soon the flame was forgotten."_

* * *

Molly stopped and was now looking at Sherlock, who listened to her for the last part of the legend.

"If you ask me, I say this whole legend is fiction. It is just a little fairy tale for children. There is even a lullaby derived from it, can you believe it?" Sherlock huffed.

* * *

"... _Fear not my child, fear not_

_If death comes for your blood._

_Purity and love will conquer it all_

_And if you do not believe so_

_then remember the girl,_

_Who gave her life to descend to gold,_

_The flame of life, she is called."_

* * *

Both, Sherlock and Molly were stunned for a second by John's singing, who was red from embarrassment.

"How do you know it?"

"In my village everybody knows this song. My mother used to sing it for me every night...I had no idea that it was connected to the legend you've just now told me."

"I see. There _is_ something you _common people_ know." Sherlock wore a condescending smile.

John looked at him annoyed.

"And I thought after the tumultuous night we had you would have changed a bit."

"Why would I? Because you nearly died? Because we shared a blanket? Please, John, don't be disappointed but I consider myself married to my magic and my work."

Molly's mouth hung open for a second at the mention of the blanket.

"What? No! I didn't mean it like...I mean, I did but I didn't...I should be quiet now."

"Yes. That would be the best."

Nobody said anything for a while. John was watching Sherlock and Molly observing a corpse on the table. Sherlock's facial expression turned more serious as time went by and he whispered something to Molly that only she seemed to understand.

John felt like an outsider watching them.

Suddenly a bright light was filling the room.

He closed his eyes and blinked just in time to see a white flash coming in his direction.

" _John_! Watch out!"

* * *

**Next chapter: Meet and greet with an old character.**

 


	6. Mo And Mo

**Previously:**

_Suddenly a bright light was filling the room._

_He closed his eyes and blinked just in time to see a white flash coming in his direction._

_"John! Watch out!"_

* * *

John didn't have time to react at all. Hell, he wasn't even able to move a muscle. Just when he thought the dazzling thing would hit him, it bounced against a wall that had appeared in front of him.

There were no words to describe the simple beauty of the shelter.

Thousands of different colored lights formed a shield, solid enough to fend off any kind of magic.

John lowered his arms, which were purposely positioned in front of his face for protection and raised his head to see Sherlock bringing down his right arm and running towards him.

"Are you alright, John?"

The other man never thought he would see something as close as concern on the _Almighty´s_ face.

"Me?..uhm...Yes. Yes. I'm alright. Sherlock, what the hell was that?"

Molly, who slowly recovered from shock, answered him with a shaky voice.

"You could have died, John. If Sherlock hadn't reacted in time...that was an imprinted curse..."

"Imprinted curse?"

Sherlock let his hands wander across John's shoulders and chest to check, if he had suffered any injuries. He felt tingly in those places, where the _Almighty_ had touched him.

"That's a curse, which is imprinted on a corpse. Back then, they were used to prevent people from molesting the deceased. Nowadays, it is forbidden to create an imprinted curse because it's considered dark magic. I have to admit, I'm worried that someone is creating and implementing them."

John saw his _bondmate_ wrinkling his forehead as if he were absorbed in his thoughts.

* * *

When Sherlock saw the signs of the curse on the dead body, it was already too late to prevent it from forming.

He knew if John would have been hit with the flash, his life would very soon be over.

Unknown fear had gripped his heart as he instinctively raised his arm and demand his magic.

He didn't have time to hope. Didn't have the privilege to pray for it to work but that was not necessary.

Within a second he felt his power rushing through him. A familiar feeling of prickling warmth was leaving his fingertips. His shield appeared just in time in front of John Watson. Sherlock let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding.

He was at John's side in an instant. When did he start to care so much about the other man?

"Are you alright?"

He only heard John muttering something incoherent but it eased his heart a little bit to see that there weren't any external wounds visible on the other man.

_An imprinted curse._

Very powerful dark magic. Suddenly he was very glad that his magic returned just in time to save his bondmate.

"Hey...your magic is back. That's brilliant!"

He stopped thinking to see John's face light up.

"John...you almost died minutes ago. And all you care about is my magic?"

"Yeah..but it's good, isn't it? I thought there was something wrong with it, seeing that you were bonded with me...I mean...I'm so glad that you are able to use magic again. I really am, Sherlock."

The younger man looked at him with honest joy. Confusing. John Watson was confusing.

"Yes. It's good, I guess."

For a while nobody said anything.

They told Molly to be careful and she promised Sherlock to contact him immediately if there were any changes on the corpse.

The rest of the day was spent in a relaxing manner.

John tried to gain more information on the magical world. Apparently, there were more magical creatures living side by side than only _Almighties_.

He could have sworn that he saw fairylike creatures dancing on the flowers of their garden.

_Time went by._

Sometimes he heard odd noises coming from Sherlock's room but he knew they were only experiments to investigate the case of the dead bodies, as his _bondmate_ tried to convince him.

John didn't mind, as long as the other man wasn't trying to blow up the house.

Spending time with Sherlock Holmes was getting more and more a thing of habituation.

He even had to admit that the few times were the _Almighty_ accompanied him on his meals, were his favorite moments.

He couldn't get enough of Sherlock's childhood stories. At first the other man seemed to be reluctant about sharing them but he soon realized that John's delighted face and laughs were worth it. Maybe it was because he had never experienced such a close relationship in his family or with anyone before.

After several stories, John learned that Mrs. Hudson would always secretly give Sherlock some chocolate when he was a little boy because his mother had forbidden him to touch anything sweet that could ruin his teeth.

He also found out that Sherlock once turned Mycroft into a dog, forcing him be his playmate. His parents only found out after they wondered about their son's absence and noticed that the "newfound" dog was suspiciously very fond of biting on an umbrella, which was Mycroft's favorite item at that time.

John laughed so hard that he almost choked on his tea.

"And what happened after they turned him back to normal again?"

"Nothing at all really, my parent's assumed that someone had played a trick on him. And Mycroft was too ashamed to confess that it was his little brother, who put a spell on him. He might've gained more weight, though. During the time he was a dog; he would just sleep and eat all day."

Sherlock grinned a little.

"He's still trying to get rid of the extra fat. Speaking of Mycroft, we have an appointment with my brother tomorrow."

"Why?"

"It seemed like he wanted to know how our training was going."

John dropped his fork.

"But we haven't practiced at all!"

"We don't need to. Mycroft just wants to be annoying as usual."

* * *

"Sherlock. John."

John tried to hold back his grin as Mycroft greeted them. He couldn't get the image of him as a dog out of his head.

"I heard that your magic returned to you, little brother."

"Yes, it has."

"Now, don't let me pull everything out of your nose. What happened?"

He looked at Sherlock expectantly.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? I don't believe it. There must be some improvement in your power. Maybe a little bit more stamina, concerning the difficult spells?"

"Nothing."

John could see some signs of disappointment on Mycroft's face.

"Excuse me. Should there be something happening with Sherlock's magic?"

"Usually the magic changes when the owner gets _bonded._ But this doesn't seem to be in Sherlock's case. What a pity. I have to be honest, I expected something more."

John watched Mycroft rolling his umbrella between his thumbs while the other man was thinking about something.

Sherlock was unnerved by his brother's interrogation.

Sure, his magic didn't seem to have developed to a higher level but that doesn't mean that it hadn't changed at all.

He didn't want to tell anybody that it has become more difficult for him to gain access his magic. It didn't necessarily mean that he had to put in a lot of effort to cast a spell. It was more like as if...something was holding him back.

He didn't want John to worry, though. Let alone Mycroft. He was not a little child anymore.

"Well, that makes it more difficult to handle the upcoming situation. You don't have the ability to combine your power. Sherlock's magic hasn't shown signs of improvement with your bond. I seriously don't know how we should deal with the problem. Have you two practiced at all?"

John looked at Sherlock, who didn't move a bit and seemed to have no intention of answering his brother. He sighed.

"No we haven't."

"Are you out of your mind?! This is not a joke. You should take this seriously, especially you Sherlock. There is a reputation to lose if you should fail. Imagine all the other households looking down at us." His facial expression turned into a grimace.

John tried his best to keep the older Holmes calm.

"What would you suggest we do?"

After a moment of consideration Mycroft answered him with a voice that didn't permit disobedience.

"Go to the MEC. Sherlock is familiar with the building. I really hope you know what you are doing brother. Good day."

John saw Mycroft disappearing into the air before he looked at his _bondmate._

Sherlock grinned. And John couldn't help but to smile back. Older siblings. They could really be a pain sometimes.

John watched his bondmate, as they were going to the MEC.

"What's this thing? The MEC?"

"It's short for _Magic Exercise Centre_. It's a place where you can practice your magic. And it helps bondmates to find their balance with their new found power, too."

"Did you often go there to practice?"

"What do you think, John? Going into a building where hundreds of _Almighties_ are throwing their spells around, paying a so called expert to keep blabbing their advices. There are better ways to waste your time."

Even though Sherlock didn't want to admit it, it was time for them to pay the MEC a visit. With his magic being restrainted and John not having magic at all, it was getting difficult to be able to succeed in the competition.

They were approaching the _Magic Exercise Centre_ when someone put their hand on Sherlock's shoulder, hindering him from moving on.

Sherlock felt his magic reacting. There was this feeling, as if the other one's power was able to consume the entire environment around them.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. What an utter surprise!"

He turned around to face a smaller man with raven hair.

 _A smirk on his face._ Obviously trying to pretend to know him. _Coat and shoes._ Expensive. Not worn out. From his overall impression maybe someone from the household _Moriarty._ They were known for their bells and whistles to impress others.

"Do I know you?"

He studied the other man and something told him that this man should be familiar to him.

"Really? _Do I know you?"_

John wrinkled his forehead in confusion as the small man imitated Sherlock's question in a mocking tone.

"I am so disappointed, Sherlock. I really am."

John thought the other man didn't look disappointed at all, given the fact that he was still grinning so wide that his upper teeth showed.

"..Moriarty. James Moriarty," Sherlock mumbled more to himself than speaking directly to the other man.

"Ahh...I knew it. You couldn't forget someone like me, could you? Little Jim in the library. You made such a great impression on me. What a pity I didn't seem to have made one on you... And look at this!"

John could barely react as he felt cold fingertips grabbing his chin to lift it up. Sherlock let out a growl. He felt the need to slap the hand away, which was touching his _bondmate_ far too intimate for his liking. Uh...when did this happen?

But Moriarty let go of John after he examined him for a few seconds.

He started to laugh. In John's opinion it sounded as if someone was scratching their fingers against a blackboard.

"A _bondmate_! Sherlock Holmes got himself a _bondmate_ , who would have thought?"

Now John was getting really angry.

"Hey! I don't really know how you know Sherlock but don't speak of me like that! I'm not a pet."

He saw James Moriarty's grin spreading wider in delight.

"And _sooo_ brave." Within seconds he dropped his smile and his eyes were suddenly staring at them with malice.

"But you should really watch your mouth, such a pretty mouth. It would be a waste if someone would _rip_ it off your _face._ " He emphasized the last words and John saw some of Moriarty's saliva landing on Sherlock's coat.

The _Almighty_ didn't seem to mind, though. Or he just didn't notice. John wondered how Sherlock remained so calm, when the man's behavior obviously crossed the line.

"It was nice to meet you, James Moriarty. Now if you would excuse us..."

"Oh no. _No_. Stay. I have someone to introduce you to. He won't believe his luck if he met _the_ Sherlock Holmes today." His smile was back. John imagined it was even slightly more devilish than minutes ago.

"Seb! _Come here_!"

They waited for a few seconds before Sherlock saw a young man walking towards them.

"Jim." His voice was surprisingly deep and soft. The eyes were darting between Sherlock and John.

"Jim, who are they?"

Moriarty laid his hand reassuringly on the other man's shoulder.

"Seb, this is Sherlock Holmes. And...what's your name again?"

John looked at him with a stiff facial expression before he unwillingly told him his name.

"John Watson."

"...and John Watson. His _bondmate_."

They watched the other man's eyes widen for a second as Moriarty mentioned Sherlock before he stretched out his right hand for a greeting.

"Sebastian Moran. I'm Jim's _bondmate_. Nice to meet you."

They shook each other's hand. In contrast to Moriarty, Sebastian seemed to be normal. Maybe even boring.

As if Jim could read their mind he spoke again, this time his voice full of affection.

"Seb doesn't make a strong impression but you shouldn't underestimate his magic. It is very powerful and destructive. He was a soldier once, my Seb. Never hesitates to kill if the situation calls for it."

He laughed and caressed his bondmate's cheek with the back of his hand. Sebastian just stood still and let him. His facial expression didn't show any emotion at all. They made a funny pair with Jim being almost two heads smaller than his _bondmate._

"Of course such an action won't be necessary. Might I ask you what _your_ profession was, John?"

Before John was able to answer him, Sherlock already spoke for him.

"John is common. He's from the village."

John knew that his bondmate was just telling the truth but why did the description of him made him feel as if he was nothing, compared to Sebastian Moran?

Sherlock's words hurt. They shouldn't hurt.

Moriarty let out a delighted sound and he rubbed his palms together in excitement.

"A _common person_...bonded with you? Interesting. You astonished me, John Watson. You really do. Let me guess...You two are going to compete for the _flame_?"

John saw Sherlock slowly nod.

"Excellent! What a fun game we will have. Of course Seb and I will participate, too. It was a pleasure, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. We will meet again soon."

Moriarty bowed down before them. It was a comical gesture. Then he took Moran's hand in his own and walked away.

_Silence._

It felt like an eternity before Sherlock spoke.

"He's dangerous."

John asked, even when he was almost sure, what the answer would be.

"Who?"

"James Moriarty. Don't tell me you didn't feel his magic?"

John paused. He really didn't sense anything apart from his insane personality.

"No. Was there something wrong with it?"

"No."

John wasn't too convinced by the short answer but he decided not to press it.

"This Sebastian Moran, he and Moriarty acted kind of...weird, don't you think?"

"Like how?" Sherlock had already started to walk towards the MEC again, forcing John to follow.

"They seemed to be more than _bondmates_. Someone could actually mistake them for being a couple," John let out a nervous laugh. Why was he suddenly so damn nervous around Sherlock's presence?

The other man only blinked.

"Not surprising. Many _bondmate_ -couples actually turn into real couples. Since you have to spend so much time with your _bondmate_ , this development in the partnership is common."

John swallowed heavily.

-"And do you think...we...?"

"Us? No. I don't think so. First of all, you must have already known that I'm not into relationships. Moreover, why are you suddenly asking me this question? It's not necessary to waste your thoughts on our bond if it's going be solved anyway."

"Yeah. You're right." John laughed. It sounded fake even to his own ears but Sherlock didn't noticed.

"But I thought it's only going to happen if we find the _flame_?"

Sherlock suddenly turned around, causing John to almost collide with him.

He felt Sherlock's hands resting on his shoulders. Confused, he raised his head. His _bondmate_ smiled. It was the first true and genuine smile he saw on this face.

"Don't you have faith in me, John?"

John tried to swallow the knot in his throat. He could feel Sherlock's breath on his skin and his eyes boring into his. Were they always this piercing?

"I...I do."

"Good." As if someone had turned a switch, the _Almighty_ was letting him go and turned to their original direction again.

"I would have been disappointed if you didn't"

Sherlock continued walking, leaving a very confused John Watson behind.

* * *

_What just happened?_

Sherlock didn't know what possessed him to grab John's shoulders like that.

In all the times talking with him and laughing with him, he didn't realize that John Watson had become such a big part of his life.

They stood in front of a single wooden door. There were no walls or signs of a room behind. It was just a door, standing in the middle of nowhere.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Have you already forgotten what we have discussed moments ago? Trust me, John. This is the MEC"

And with those words he pulled the door open.

* * *

**Next chapter:** **Magical training for J. Some revelation.**

**Thanks for your support. It makes writing so much easier. :)**


	7. I Do Not Care

**Previously:**

_They stood in front af a single wooden door. There were no walls, which were holding it or signs of a room behind. It was just a door, standing in the middle of nowhere._

_"Are you sure, we are right here?"_

_"Have you already forgotten what you said to me minutes ago? Trust me, John. This is the MEC"_

_And with those words he pulled the door open._

* * *

John didn't know what to expect when he first went through the door. But whatever he was expecting, he wasn't prepared for a mass of people babbling agitatedly in a big hall.

"What..."

Sherlock showed no reaction to his _bondmate's_ obvious surprise.

They made their way through the hallway, illuminated by countless torches. There were _Almighties_ everywhere, most of them in couples.

"Sherlock are they..?"

The taller man nodded.

"Yes. They are all here for practicing their magic. I have to admit, the hall is more crowded than usual but that can be easy explained by the upcoming competition. I guess a lot of _Almighties_ want to be fully prepared for it."

"Who wouldn't?"

They continued walking towards a counter.

When a woman saw them approaching, she nearly fell off her stool.

"Mr. Holmes! What a pleasant surprise!"

"I can imagine. My _bondmate_ and I wish to have a session."

She took one glance at John and smiled broadly. Her fingers were already browsing through a big pile of papers before they came to a halt.

"You are lucky, Mr. Holmes. There is time left for you. However, I am afraid you have to wait for an hour for the room to be usable again." She looked nervously at the tall man as if it were her fault for causing Sherlock any inconvenience.

"It doesn't matter. Just register us."

John saw the woman relax, furiously writing their names on a piece of paper.

"Do you wish to have a personal coach?"

"That won't be necessary."

"Of course not. Thank you for your choosing to exercise at the MEC and please come again soon."

Sherlock didn't even answer as he turned around, leaving a very embarrassed John Watson behind.

"Uh...yeah...thank you."

But the woman at the counter was already flipping through the stacks of papers again, paying John no attention.

* * *

"Sherlock that wasn't very nice."

"What wasn't nice, John?"

"You could at least answer when someone talks to you."

"Do you mean the woman at the counter? She is getting paid for doing her job. It's her duty to be nice to the customers. I see no point in being nice to someone who isn't even honestly showing her true personality."

John didn't know what to answer to his _bondmate's_ concept of interacting with people, so he decided not to. They patiently waited for the hour to pass when Sherlock abruptly rose from the chair and moved his index finger, which was a hint for John to follow him.

They passed through countless doors before Sherlock grinned with satisfaction and turned around to finally speak with his _bondmate._

"There we are. One thing, John. When we enter the room, we won't be alone. The second we close this door you have to be aware that the training session starts."

"What do you mean 'not alone'?"

"I mean, you should be prepared for the attack, and being under attack calls for quicker reactions and attention. Don't just stand there doing nothing but find a way to protect yourself."

John nervously smiled at the _Almighty._

"Sherlock, I thought this was going to be practice. Normal practice for beginners. Nobody told me about being under attack!"

"Please, don't start to worry. You obviously don't have magic and as a result we can't combine our power. The only way for us to fight is to let me do all the work and you just stay safe. Ready? Go..."

"What...no!"

It was too late.

One second he stood beside Sherlock in front of the iron door, the next he felt a spell missing him just by inches.

He was greeted with the sight of stones and rocks and countless gaps. The smoke and the loud noise added to the impression of a battlefield.

"Don't just stand there, John! Move!"

He saw Sherlock defending himself with his magic. His motions and gestures looked like nothing he had ever seen before. It looked flawless. Easy. No wonder he was always so full of himself when it came to his power.

"I'm trying to but I can't see a thing!"

The noise got louder and it nearly ruptured his ear-drum when a spell landed next to his feet, causing the ground to explode.

" _Don't worry_? You never said that those spells could actually kill me, Sherlock!"

He ran as fast as he could to his _bondmate,_ who was now grinning with excitement and joy. Beads of perspiration were already visible on his forehead.

"Well, that's...supposed...to be...the practice...how else do you think...we are going...to train? Take...a book...and read it? Tousling...with our fingers...and waiting for something...to happen? Sorry to disappoint...you, John."

It was clear that Sherlock was now using his focus for the coming attacks. If John was honest with himself he really had hoped that all they would be doing was studying some spells. Landing in a room full of danger was not on his list.

* * *

Left. Right. Above.

Sherlock knew exactly why he didn't like to practice in the MEC. Too much unnecessary stress for the human body to cope with. They must have increased the level, knowing that it was one of the _Holmes_ ' here.

From the corner of his left eye he observed John, who was standing on the same spot as before. He looked lost and helpless. If his _bondmate_ thought that this situation was uncomfortable for them he would definitely be uncomfortable when they had to face the real fight between the contestants.

"I said cover yourself, John!"

It was too late. A spell came from the right towards his _bondmate._ Sherlock tried to summon a shelter but he knew it wouldn't help.

His heart skipped a beat when the spell made impact with John, who was not moving from shock.

Silence.

Nothing. There was nothing. No explosion. No pain. John Watson was still living and breathing.

"Impossible." Sherlock couldn't believe it. Somehow the spell just vanished when it came in contact with his _bondmate._

"Am I hurt? I don't want to look." John, who had closed his eyes, still didn't move an inch. When Sherlock didn't speak he began to panic.

"Sherlock? Is it that bad?"

There was still no answer so John decided to finally open his eyes. They were in front of the iron door again.

"Time is up."

"So I got lucky? The spell didn't hit me?"

Instead of an answer the _Almighty_ just walked away, leaving John behind confused.

* * *

John tried to be as precise as possible when he prepared dinner. That's what he loved most about cooking. There is little chance that something would go wrong and _if_ something did go wrong it was because of carelessness. Even a clumsy fellow like him could make a successful dinner if he just followed the steps. His mother always loved to see him prepare the food because in her opinion he seemed most content and relaxed when he was working in the kitchen. That was because when he did he was able to forget everything.

Forget his hair. Forget the MEC and the session in hell. Here he could just be John Watson.

He really missed his family.

"You are missing your family." John spun around and looked straight into grey eyes.

"No way you could have known that...How the hell did you know that?"

Sherlock took some of the cucumber and twisted it between his fingers in boredom.

"You were sighing every 2 minutes. Facial expression twisted as if you were in pain. Either you're suffering from some serious injury from our intense training or your bad mood was caused by some emotional distress. I went really easy on you today...so I guessed it was the latter."

He chucked the muddy vegetable away and looked at John expectantly.

"You were observing me?"

"Oh please, don't be dull. I wasn't observing you. I waited to see if dinner was ready."

John gave him a cocky eyebrow.

"First of all, we know you don't eat dinner. Moreover, I didn't know you would degrade yourself into lying just to deny the fact that you were clearly observing me."

He waited for Sherlock's reply but all he was hearing was a cough from the other man.

"Hey, don't get sick. The competition starts in a few days. You should be looking after yourself."

John listened to his _bondmate_ clearing his throat.

"I don't get _sick_." He emphasized the word sick as if only other people would get a cold.

"Well, sounds pretty sick to me."

"Shouldn't you be watching the potatoes, John? I think ten seconds more and even Mycroft's cat wouldn't touch them."

"O bloody...shit." Sherlock watched in amusement while John tried to save the remaining potatoes, which have turned into a dark-brown shade.

* * *

"This can't be right, Sherlock...the spell just vanished?"

"Are you and John somehow suffering from the same deafness? As I've mentioned earlier, _brother,_ there was nothing I could have done. He blocked the magic by himself."

"And you are sure that it wasn't some kind of talisman?"

Sherlock stared at his brother coldly.

"Alright. I just wanted to make sure of it."

"Believe me. If I was sure about what I saw I wouldn't have come to you, Mycroft."

"You realize that the matter is very serious, don't you? If John really subconsciously blocked a spell, we aren't dealing with a _common_ man anymore. He could be a real discovery for our kind. Imagine all the possibilities for having such a defense."

Sherlock scoffed.

"John is not your concern, Mycroft. He is _bonded_ with _me._ Whatever you plan to do with him, just make sure you inform me first."

"Sherlock, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't care about him. I just don't like you to endanger my magic by threatening my _bond_ with him. I don't care about your dirty methods and plans. I don't care about John Watson and his wondrous power to block magic. All I want is my peace and quiet. After the competition, where no doubt I'll win, you can do with him whatever you want. To summarize it, _I don't care_."

They didn't see the figure standing behind the door, listening to the younger Holmes' outburst.

* * *

John had left the brothers to their conversation when they arrived at the mansion. Today he practiced with Sherlock for almost four hours and he didn't get the chance to go to the restroom. When he came back he heard his _bondmate_ shouting. John hesitantly stopped at the door. Should he really enter in the middle of an argument?

_"I don't care about John Watson ...All I want is my peace and quiet. After the competition, where no doubt I'll win, you can do with him whatever you want. To summarize it, I don't care..."_

He slowly retreated from the door. The words hit him like a rock, a big giant massive rock.

What had he hoped for? For Sherlock and him to become best friends or maybe even more? The glorious couple, who would win the competition and conquer the _flame_? Always living happily ever after in 221 b Baker Street?

"God, John. You have made a fool of yourself."

He scrubbed his face with his hands. Of course Sherlock didn't care. He never actually said that he enjoyed his company. Maybe the endless hours of talking weren't even pleasant for him but a torture? How could he have been so blind to see that Molly was right. A _common_ mind just didn't fit with a brilliant one. It never would.

"John, is that you behind the door? Why don't you come in? I need you to take my brother back to Baker Street. He is awfully moody today."

He quickly tried to regain his normal attitude again and swallowed heavily before entering the room.

_Please don't let him see. Please don't let him see..._

But Sherlock was too busy with giving his brother a sour smile then to pay his _bondmate_ any attention.

"Don't give me any reason to be, _brother."_

"Now look at how hoarse you sound. You should be looking after yourself. A sick man won't win anything."

"As if you are really concerned about my health, Mycroft. Come one, John. Let's go."

As the pair was leaving they didn't see Mycroft staring after them.

"But we all know that you do _care,_ little brother."

* * *

They rarely spoke the rest of the day. At first Sherlock didn't even notice but during dinner his _bondmate_ would usually try to be the first one to open up a conversation.

"What's wrong?"

John stopped in the middle of eating.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't exactly seem like nothing to me." He saw the other man dropping the fork and raising his head to look him in the eyes.

"Why do _you_ care?"

There was it again. _Care._

"What's with you people lately? First Mycroft and now you. It didn't escape me that you are behaving strangely tonight. I just wanted to know why."

He heard John sighing.

"It's called a bad mood, Sherlock. Use your deductive skills." How could he explain to the _Almighty_ that he felt deeply hurt over something, which he likely wasn't supposed to hear?

"Boring. Just drink a potion or whatever helps and get your smile back. I need to go over to Lestrade and I want you to come with me."

"It's so easy for you, isn't it?" John felt anger rising in him.

"Just drink a potion and everything will be alright? Should I be all happy just for you to feel good? So you don't have to be bothered with my mood? Guess what, I don't work that way. _Emotions_ don't work that way, Sherlock. You would know if you actually possess some."

He knew that the things he was saying wasn't fair to the younger man but that didn't stop him from continuing to insult him. He needed to get the anger out. He wanted Sherlock to suffer as much as he has suffered the past hours.

Sherlock watched him for a moment before he began to speak.

"Is this about your family..?"

"No damn it, this isn't about my family. You know what? Just forget it. Forget everything I've said. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things to you. Remember? _Bad Mood._ "

Without a word John went upstairs.

* * *

Sherlock knew he couldn't comprehend emotions as well as other people. That was one of the main reasons, why other children would avoid him or say bad things about him when he was little. He hadn't expected John to turn against him, too.

For the first time in his life he felt like he was being stabbed by words. Every spot on his skin hurt.

He felt miserable and the headache just wouldn't stop. If Mycroft would have known when to stop the provoking him, he surely wouldn't have developed one.

He was burning and his vision became blurred. The next second he found himself next to his skull. Weird. He remembered that he had put it on the floor next to the pipe.

Every part of his body was on fire. He could barely breathe. Did the other children try to suffocate him this time?

"You can't do anything easy for once in your life, can you, Sherlock?"

He recognized the voice. It's the same one to which he had spoken to all week.

But that can't be. Why would John suffocate him?

"Please...no."

Sherlock hated how miserable his voice sounded. It reminded him that his body was weak. He could have all the power in this world but his body would remain weak. He was no better than the rest of them.

Fragile. Helpless.

"God, Sherlock. Would you please hold still? I'm trying to help you."

He tried to free himself from the other person's grip. If cutting off his oxygen meant helping him he could do easily without it.

"No more...please...no more..."

Sherlock hated begging but this person just wouldn't stop. More flames, eating his body alive. It was mixed with some cooling sensations on his skin.

He moaned.

* * *

John felt really bad about his outburst in the kitchen. Part of him knew that his _bondmate_ would never change his personality and he didn't expect nor wanted him to. He didn't even know him long enough to be qualified for that.

It was just the _bond,_ which kept them together. Without it, Sherlock would have been-

"..long gone." John whispered to himself while he clutched the chess game tighter in his hands. A little present as his apology.

He carefully opened the door to Sherlock's room.

"Sherlock, look I..."

He wasn't prepared for a body lying motionless on the floor.

"Oh..."

John let the game drop, which caused the figures to find their way across the room but that didn't matter to him right now. Right now Sherlock mattered and he didn't look good from what he could see.

"Sherlock, hey...wake up."

His _bondmate´s_ skin felt hot. Feverish. _Sick._

 _"Great._ Just great. I told you, you would get sick if you don't look after yourself."

There was no answer but a loud moan coming from the _Almighty,_ who was now frantically mumbling to himself and telling him to stop touching him.

"God, Sherlock. Would you please hold still? I'm trying to help you." He vaguely remembered his mother putting a wet cloth on his forehead when he got sick as a child. It had always helped to bring his fever down.

After a lot of effort John finally put his _bondmate_ to bed and returned with a bucket full of water and a cloth. While he was trying to make the fabric stay on its place he observed the younger man.

Sherlock was tossing and turning and changing between moans and heavy exhalations. John sighed and realized that he should probably call Mycroft. After all, a sick person was not something to be dealt with lightly.

Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him downwards.

Blue met grey.

Sherlock was kissing him. _Kissing him._ As in not being accidently forced to press their lips together.

John was too shocked to react. All he could feel was the soft skin against his chin and his neck.

And the wet cloth between their foreheads.

* * *

**Next chapter: The competition.**


	8. Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

**Previously:**

Sherlock was kissing him. _Kissing him._ As in not being accidently forced to press their lips together.

John was too shocked to react. All he could feel was the soft skin against his chin. And his neck.

And the wet cloth between their foreheads.

* * *

The sensation of Sherlock's lips against his own could be compared to a meeting between fire and ice. It was burning, not the painful kind of burn but the bittersweet one.

Every spot was burning and tingling. He felt the pressure of the hand on his neck increasing, which resulted in a deeper kiss.

John barely noticed that he let out an embarrassing moan. Long fingers were fumbling in his golden hair- _when did Sherlock take his cap off?_ \- and were slowly tracing down his cheeks, following the line of his chin.

He felt his own hand lost on his _bondmate´s_ chest, enjoying the feel of his marble-like body.

As if it was in answer to his daringness, Sherlock opened his mouth, letting his hot breath caress John´s skin.

 _God_... _how could lips even feel like that?_

It didn´t last long when the _common_ man suddenly snapped back to reality. What the _hell_ were they doing? This shouldn't be happening.

"Hmmm..Sherlock...Sherlock, let go. Let go of me."

Even to his own ears the order sounded like a pathetic plea. The _Almighty_ didn't seem to hear it, though.

Instead soft lips found their way down to his neck, arousing John even more. He couldn't believe the feeling that was rushing through every part of his body.

It felt so _good_.

Only he, John Watson, would take advantage of a sick person, who was clearly not in the right state of his mind now. He was almost surprised when the pressure on his lips loosened and he felt Sherlock's hand sliding down. Slowly, he rose his head, only to find his _bondmate_ unconscious again.

"Sherlock?..Wake up. Hey, wake up." With panic he tried to slap him awake but the other man remained still on the bed. He placed one hand on his forehead and was concerned about how hot it felt.

The cloth, previously for cooling the temperature down, laid on the floor, forgotten in the battle of clashing lips.

John had to admit that he never encountered a person this ill before. Not even his mother had ever shown such a pale skin colour or such a high fever.

_Think John, what should I do? What should I do?...Mycroft. I should contact Mycroft._

"Yeah...at this time. Brilliant. If _he_ wouldn't personally kill me for waking him up this late at night, I bet all the other people in the mansion would."

The problem was that he wasn't quite sure what Sherlock was suffering from. Maybe it was an unknown illness... or the training was just too much for his body to handle.

He felt guilt rising in him. Of course, it was all thanks to Sherlock that they could hope to win the competition but it never came to his mind that using all the magic could have exhausted his _bondmate._ The little incident at the lake maybe did the rest...

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, for only causing you problems..."

He tucked the other man carefully under the duvet and dunked the cloth into the water again, while listening to the shallow breaths of his _bondmate._

* * *

When morning came, the first bit of sunshine peeked through the drapes of 221b Bakerstreet.

Sherlock slowly came to his senses, though not without noticing that practically everything hurt. He felt weak and thirsty but when he tried to sit up he noticed something on his chest holding him back.

It was a mop of golden hair.

_For someone that anxious about exposing his hair he is pretty reckless._

He tried to carefully roll aside, intending not to wake the other man but the movement resulted in a cough.

"Hmm..." He stopped for a second but it was too late. John was already awake and looked at him with bright eyes.

"You are awake!"

"Brilliant deduction, John." He couldn't believe how hoarse his voice sounded.

He watched the other man leaving the room quickly and returning with a glass of water.

"Here, drink this."

"Thank you." He enjoyed the feeling of cold liquid running down his sore throat and observed John from the corner of his eye. His _bondmate_ seemed to be very nervous and was looking at him every three seconds.

"Is there something wrong with my face?"

"What..no. Why?"

Stuttering. Fumbling around. Beads of perspiration on the forehead. _Definitely something to hide._

"If I didn't know better, I would say you are attempting to stare a hole in my head."

He watched John's cheeks turning into a deep shade of red before he tried to defend himself.

"I'm not...what I'm saying is...I'm just glad. I'm glad that you are okay. You scared me last night."

"No need to be concerned about me. A common cold won't do any serious harm to me, don't worry."

"Well, one of us has to. You were barely conscious the whole time. I tried wake you up but you just wouldn't open your eyes! Why didn't you tell me that you were feeling unwell to this extent?"

Now that John has mentioned it, he saw the bucket and the cloth. And John's wrinkled skin on the right side of his face.

"Were you at my bedside for the entire night? And as for saying something. I wanted to but you said so yourself that you were in a bad mood." He let out another cough but this time it lasted longer.

John looked down as he listened to the other man drinking the rest of what was left in the glass.

"About last night...I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Although I don't know what is troubling you, I am aware that I can be...unbearable sometimes.I know that I often cannot understand feelings and _emotions_ as well as others may expect me to."

He watched his _bondmate's_ lips curl into a huge grin.

"If that was suppose to be an apology Sherlock, it was one of the crappiest I have ever come across."

The other man didn't answer and after some seconds of silence, John decided to ask him.

"But...you don't remember anything from last night?"

_There it was again. The nervous smile from earlier._

"After our argument? Nothing." _Maybe I shouldn't mention that during the last hours of my sleep I lived through the worst moments in my childhood again ..._

Although John may have tried to hide it, his facial expression clearly showed disappointment.

"Was there something worth remembering?"

"No. Nothing. You were just really ill and mumbling weird things all night.." He let out a high-pitched laugh, causing the other man to frown.

* * *

Of course Sherlock wouldn't remember and that was more than fine.

John didn't know what he would have done, if the _Almighty_ would have actually remembered the kiss. It's not that he wanted him to.

The thing that bothered him was that it had felt so natural. Pressing his lips against Sherlock's has made him feel...whole.

He didn't know what was wrong with him.

In last hours he spent next to his _bondmate_ he had tried to figure it out.

John vaguely remembered his first kiss with a young girl named Sarah, when he was 12 winters old. From his memory he thought that kissing the girl was one of the greatest things he had ever experienced.

Until last night.

Hell, he didn't even like men. Sherlock didn't even like _him,_ as he have been painfully made aware of yesterday. Between switching the cloth on his forehead and calming the other man he had taken the time to observe him in detail for the first time.

He really was handsome. Tall, smooth skin and piercing grey eyes. And those cheekbones gave him quite an aristocratic look.

John never noticed it before but seeing the man asleep had shown him a much more innocent side of Sherlock that he quite liked.

Like now, when his _bondmate_ put the glass down and ruffled through his locks.

"Prepare yourself. Mycroft has come to pay us a visit.. _again_."

"Hmm?..."

John didn't have the time to think twice when a man with a black umbrella suddenly appeared in front of them. Startled he fell on the floor when he lost balance.

"Dear brother...what have I told you about getting sick?"

"My, Sherlock...you look _terrible_." A small lady came behind the umbrella clad man, shaking her head as she saw the state Sherlock was in.

"Mrs. Hudson! I see, my brother is bothering you again."

The older woman let out a small chuckle.

"I would say it was the other way around. Am I not allowed to visit my boys when I've been missing them so much? Besides, I wanted to see how you and John are doing. But looking at you now gives me an uneasy feeling, my dear." She reached out to caress Sherlock's cheek before she helped John up, who looked embarrassed about losing his balance again.

"Don't worry Mrs, Hudson. It's just a common cold."

"It's not. You were hardly fine yesterday, Sherlock."

"Well, I'm still living am I not? And besides, John took good care of me."

"I did?..Yes, I suppose I did."

They didn't see the other two people in the room exchanging confused looks.

"Are you sure that you are capable of fighting, the day after tomorrow? You still look pretty exhausted to me, Sherlock."

"Don't worry, _brother._ I will be able to defend the honour of our household."

"Stop being an imbecile. I was merely expressing my concern about you. After all, this competition is not be dealt with easily."

John looked up.

"And we will immediately be searching for the _flame?_ "

Mrs. Hudson smiled at him reassuringly.

"There will be a preliminary round first, to sort the weaker couples out. From the rumors I have heard, I think your task is to fill a cup with water from the waterfall deep in the forest."

"The forest?"

"Yes, I think that's where the flame was last seen."

"I see...so that's what we have to do? Filling a cup with water? That doesn't sound spectacularly difficult to me."

He heard Sherlock clearing his throat.

"It isn't. But the competitors make it difficult. They will do everything in their power to prevent us from succeeding. And that's why I have to recover quickly and _that is why_ you have to leave , brother, and let me get my rest. No offence, Mrs. Hudson, you can come anytime you want but I think it is better to delay the visit."

"Of course, my dear. You have to be healthy and strong for the competition. That's right, I'm going to make some chickensoup for you today. That should help with the cold."

Sherlock gave her the most genuine smile John has ever seen on him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"But I'm still only your landlady. Don't think that you will receive this treatment everytime."

After they had left, John started to prepare breakfast, while Sherlock had decided to sleep but not without declaring that he did it with disdain.  
John sighed. The tingling feeling on his lips faded into a long forgotten dream.

"Well, that's good. If he can't remember then I won't either." He beat the eggs with more force than necessary.

* * *

At the age of approximately 65 winters, she could confidently say that her knowledge about the magical world was big enough to fill numerous books.

Her household has served other _Almighties_ for generations, providing them with a home full of comfort and warmth.

She loved her job. Especially the opportunity to meet different people and seeing young children growing into independent, powerful _Almighties_ , who will _bond_ some day.

When she first caught a glimpse of Sherlock Holmes, she instantly fell in love with the little boy, whose eyes reflected such wisdom and curiosity, she never saw in any child before.

At the same time she worried about him, as she watched Sherlock growing into a man.

Other than his brother, he never seemed to have the urge to blend in with society. She found him often neglected in the corner of the library, brooding over papers and flasks. Sometimes she was even angry with the older Holmes', who didn't seem to show much interest in their children.

Everybody could see that Sherlock and Mycroft were suffering from the lack of parental love.

Over the years her concern about Sherlock grew. She knew that he had developed a really powerful control over his magic and if the man didn't _bond_ some time soon, it could be possible that he could lose everything. But with his antisocial attitude, it was unlikely that he would agree to share his magical resources.

And then John Watson appeared.

Wonderfully _common_ John, who seemed to have made an impact on the otherwise very controlled and self-absorbed _Almighty._ It scared her that the other man didn't possess magic at all but as long Sherlock was happy, she was happy, too.

A stranger may not have noticed it but she knew the looks and the gestures Sherlock had shown in the company of John too well.

The beginning of love...or at least interest in someone other than himself for the first time.

She truly wanted this couple to work.

That's why she was so happy when she saw them this morning. They were already behaving like an old couple and it was very obvious that John cared much about his _bondmate._ Sherlock was worrying her, though. That child never got sick for as long as she has known him. Despite Mycroft telling her that he had probably just caught a cold, she knew something was wrong.

"I don't think that Sherlock is suffering from a common cold, Mycroft. I know you. I saw you both growing up and it is safe to say that I know when you are lying. So tell me, what is happening to your brother?"

She saw the older Holmes nervously twisting his fingers before he let out a sigh of defeat.

He slowly sat down and closed his eyes before he began to speak.

"You are right... I shouldn't have lied to you, considering that Sherlock and I count you as family."

"Oh my boy...now stop with the sweet-talk and tell me what's wrong. You are scaring me."

"I think the reason for my brother's illness is his _bondmate._ John Watson."

The older _Almighty_ looked at him with furrowed brows.

"John? What does John have to do with this?"

"Sherlock has discovered that John may have a natural defence against magic."

Mrs. Hudson frowned.

"But...how could this be possible?"

"We don't know yet and John doesn't know anything at all. We decided to keep it this way. I think his defence explains many things. That may be the reason, why he was able to enter the mansion."

"And what does it have to do with Sherlock?..."

"It's a wonder why he was able to _bond_ with my brother, if it's true that he has a natural defense against magic. But we all know the great power of Sherlock Holmes. Some how the _bond_ was created and I think my brother's system is havng a difficult time keeping the _bond_ in balance."

After a long pause she decided to ask the older Holmes the most important question. And she feared the answer to it.

"Do you think that this is the reason why he got ill?"

"I really don't know. But if it is the case I hope they win the competition. Otherwise I don't know what the effects may be on Sherlock if he keeps this _bond_."

Mrs. Hudson exhaled sadly. She _really_ wanted this relationship to work.

* * *

" _Ladies and gentlemen. And of course, our participants! Welcome to the first round!"_

* * *

John had to cover his ears because of the loud cheers that followed.

* * *

" _I assume you know what you have to do? Grab your cups, fill it with water and come back. Plain and simple. I don't want to see death spells or any kind of attempts to kill your competitors. Be fair but not_ too _fair. Don't forget that we want to see a show..."_

* * *

The crowd laughed and John took a quick glance towards the other couples, who were not laughing at all but exchanging looks, which clearly reflected their intention to not let anyone be unharmed. From the distance he could see Moriarty and Moran, who looked bored but ready to kill.

His throat felt suddenly very dry at the thought that this time he and his _bondmate_ could really be in danger.

He felt a reassuring touch on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, John. We've trained enough to deal with this situation."

That was what the shorter man was worrying about. They trained for days constantly but it was usually only Sherlock, who tried to build up a defence whereas John only stood there. Useless and weak. In the broad daylight he could still see signs of the illness, the _Almighty_ has suffered not long ago.

"God, Sherlock...you really don't look good."

"Thank you, John. That's nice of you to say, especially when I'm the only one you have to rely on for your survival."

"I didn't mean it like that...are you sure about this? We can still withdraw from the competition."

"And miss all the fun? No I don't think so. Besides, I think my brother will kill me for good this time, if he finds out that a _Holmes_ withdrew like a coward."

Sherlock gave him a tired smile.

* * *

" _On three. Please take your position. One, two...THREE! Let the race begin. Make your household proud! We will see you in the next few hours..."_

* * *

The last words were barely audible when everybody used their magic to achieved a high speed, aiming for the direction of the waterfall.

John felt ridiculous when Sherlock and he only ran as fast as their legs allowed them to. He still didn't know exactly why Sherlock didn't want to use the speed spell on them.

"Do you have the cup, John?"

"Yes, I do. And I still don't know why _I_ have to carry it."

The "cup" turned out to be as big as his head and it was likely to be as heavy as it, too. Sherlock had pushed it on him with the reason that he needed two hands to fight.

They ran for a while until John could hear noises from a waterfall.

"Sherlock, I think we are almost there."

"...be quiet, John."

"What...?" Before he could end the sentence four A _lmighties_ appeared in front of them.

"Well if it isn't Sherlock Holmes and his _common bondmate_."

One of them was approaching them with quick strides. The others were forming a circle around them.

"What a big cup you have. What will happen, if it miraculously breaks in two halves? Would you be able to fulfil the task then?" John clutched the vessel thighter in his hands but Sherlock looked the man straight into his eyes.

"What a pathetic way to win the competition. Don't you have any dignity?"

"Dignity? Oh excuse us. I have forgotten that it is the great Sherlock Holmes to whom I'm speaking. Weird, I can remember that you weren't as brave when we tried to drown you in the river."

John was shocked. _Drown?_

 _"_ We were just children back then."

"Right. Now we have all become adults let us not fight. Just give me the cup."

John didn't know who these people were exactly but his anger grew second by second.

"Hey, don't think so high of yourself. Who are you to speak to Sherlock like that?"

"Aren't you a brave little one? Let us see how brave you are when it comes to fighting for your life."

Without warning three spells were sent directly at him but they never reached their goal because his _bondmate_ quickly blocked them.

"So we have to do resort to violence again. It's a shame Sherlock...I had really hoped that you would be reasonable this time."

Like on command all four _Almighties_ were hurling spells at them. Although Sherlock was capable of shielding them, John could see that he was still weak from the illness. He stood helplessly with the cup in his arms while observing his _bondmate_ fighting in front of him. He never felt this helpless before.

Suddenly he could see Moriarty and Moran, who were passing by.

"Help! Hey! Can you hear us. We need help here."

Sebastian turned his head while Jim chose to ignore them and ordered his _bondmate_ to go on. John imagined he could see a wicked smile on the face of the raven-haired man.

"Bastard..."

He saw Sherlock growing weaker and weaker as minutes went by. The spells for defence were coming slower until he got hit. Immediately, the spot began to turn into a red patch.

"Sherlock!" He couldn't just stand there and watch as the other man got harmed.

"I'm fine. Just go. Fill the cup with water. I'm going to hold them back."

The man, who insulted them earlier, laughed.

"How? That's four of us against one. Come on. Why don't we play with your _bondmate_ , too?" Sherlock let out a growl.

 _This is happening because of me. The bond, the illness and now this. I'm useless.  
_ He saw another spell aimed at his _bondmate._ This time it would hit, too.

_I can't let this happen. Not when everything is my fault._

John let the cup drop to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

With determination he pushed the taller man to the side and waited for the spell to hit its target.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Whoo...! That´s a secret, I´m sorry guys ;)**


	9. Pulling Me Back Like Gravity

**Previously:**

_John let the cup dropped to the ground._

_"I´m sorry, Sherlock."_

_With determination he pushed the taller man to the side and waited for the spell to hit its target._

* * *

_Am I dead? I must be...it´s too quiet to be still alive._

John imagined birds chirping in the distance. He didn´t notice four loud gasps. Gasps, which turned into surprised cries. Suddenly he felt a hand grabbing his arm. Very hard.

"Uhrg..."

Within a second, he opened his eyes because of the pain. _Pain._ So he must be still alive then...

"Are you out of your mind, John?" Sherlock´s face was twisted into a grimace. Strange. He couldn´t recall such an expression on his _bondmate´s_ face before.

The next words were almost a whisper. "I´m alive... I´m not dead?"

"Of course you are still alive! That was very dangerous. What were you thinking, stepping in front of a spell? Oh, don´t tell me. Clearly you weren´t thinking at all."

"I...I didn´t want you to get hurt."

He heard the other man snorting.

"Great. So the only solution for you was to get hurt by yourself. Stupid, John."

He felt the grip on his arm getting firmer.

"Uh...could you please release me, Sherlock? You are cutting off my blood circulation. I would rather like my arm intact."

He tried to lighten the mood but the tension didn´t left his _bondmate´s_ face. Nevertheless, John felt the pressure loosened a little.

"What is going on here?" The other _Almighties_ were slowly recovering from their shocks. John could have ask that himself. He noticed that one of them was even holding his arms out, as if he was prepared to be attacked by the shorter man any second.

"No one could summon a shelter spell that fast. How is that possible. Your are _common_." The last word was spitted out with disgust.

"Shelter? Me?"

"Don´t listen to them, John." Sherlock was facing the other man with fury.

"So you don´t know then. Sherlock must have known. I assume he just didn´t tell you. How selfish of him, don´t you think?"

"Tell me what?"

"I said run, can you please listen to me for once!"

"Tell you this-" Without warning the _Almighty_ threw a spell at them again. This time no one reacted fast enough. He watched with open eyes the lightning rushing at him, when it suddenly disappeared.

Right when it came in contact with him. It felt like an eternity. He just stood there and still stared at the spot, where he was supposed to be hit.

Nothing. Not even a hole in his shirt.

"How?..."

John didn´t have much time to wonder about it because the next moment, Sherlock lost his temper.

"You made a mistake."

He has never heard Sherlock speaking in that voice before. Soo deep. Like an animal. The atmosphere around them changed and he bet it had something to do with his _bondmate._

The other men must have noticed it, too, because suddenly none of them seemed very confident or taunting anymore.

"Hey,Sherly...calm down. It was all a joke. Some teasing. Look, nobody got hurt, well, excuse me for that spell earlier, but...we don´t want to do anything stupid, do we?"

John saw the other _Almighties_ flinching because of the sudden electricity in the air. He was overwhelmed by it, too.

"Sherlock?..."

"You made a _mistake_ by hitting John."

God, even he trembled slightly now. Sherlock was terrifying. His facial expression hinted his desire to punish those, who has intended to hurt his _bondmate._ Gravely.

John noticed some kind of halo appearing around his body.

"O shit! He´s losing it!" The other men were starting to teleport themselves to another place. "If I were you, I would run. Nobody could survive what´s coming next." The _Almighty_ , who hit him with two spells, was practically shouting at him, before he disappeared,too. John didn´t know what to say, when he felt the heat around Sherlock building up. The colour of his eyes changed to almost white. His whole upper body trembled and if he didn´t know him better, he would have thought that he wanted to kill him.

He almost considered running away because whatever was happening right now, it was clear that Sherlock wasn´t in his right mind. John started to move his right foot, when he heard his _bondmate_ whisper some words to him.

"John...you have to...save yourself. I can´t...can´t hold it back." But it was too late.

He saw the halo expanding greatly. The heat was cutting through every inch of his bones and skin.

Sherlock knew he had to control himself, when they started to provoke him. He thought that the other _Almighties_ should have known by now that starting a fight with a Holmes was never a good thing to do.

His last "outburst" occured when he was a little child. His memory transported him back to that time, when he was reading by the river. On that fateful day, he was accompanied by other children.

" _I heard your daddy has brought my uncle to trial. Dirty little Holmes. Do you think you´re something better because your family is rich?"_

" _Galvin, come one. Let it go. He probably doesn´t know anything about it."_

" _Doesn´t know...as if. Probably doesn´t care. Look at him. Playing wise and witty all day."_

_The next second he felt his book getting ripped out of his hands. He looked up to see three boys in front of him. They were approximately his age. The other two boys stood behind the one, who seemed to be ´Galvin´. Probably their boss then._

"C _ome on! Let´s see how strong you are without mummy´s and daddy´s protection."_

_Sherlock didn´t say anything but continued to glance at them. For some reason it seemed to enrage the other boy even more._

" _Come on! Fight! Or are you too afraid?"_

_When Sherlock continued to stay mute and made his way to pick up his book, the other boys were suddenly twisting his arms behind his back._

_He was too surprised to react. "Let´s throw him into the river. See if he can survive that."_

" _Galvin...are you sure that´s a good idea?"_

" _Just do it."_

_Sherlock did try to summon a spell but he was still young back then. He was always to proud to practise spells, which had to be spoken out loud. His talent to cast a spell without speaking wasn´t fully developed back then. Magic sometimes failed him. And it failed him right now._

_When his body hit the water surface he nearly choked on the liquid, which was entering his open mouth._

_The stream was too fast. He didn´t have the chance to save himself. While he was struggling to keep his head over the surface he felt anger rising in him. Anger at his parents and this godforsaken household. Anger at being a Holmes. Anger at those other children. Hell, of course he didn´t care about those bullies but being hit or mocked constantly wasn´t exactly a pleasue._

_And with the anger he felt heat rising in him. Building up on the inside until he thought that he couldn´t take it anymore..._

_The next second he found himself lying on the shore. With everything being burnt in the near surounding. In the distance he saw the other children looking at him in utter shock. His brother suddenly appeared by his side and took him up in his arms. He felt too tired to protest._

_In the evening, he heard his parents discussing the incident with his brother. Somehow his anger has managed to let his magic building itself up until his power was more gigantic than everyone could imagine. He heard that he was lucky that it happened IN the river and not outside of it. He could have nearly killed everything within a mile._

_Since that day, Sherlock Holmes decided that human emotions were an inconvenient appendage. People could gain nothing but hurt by displaying them._

_He decided that he would never let anything as simple as an emotion getting control over him again._

He was wrong.

The tugging feeling was awfully familiar. He swore to himself that he would forever keep himself under control.

But all changed, when he saw John being hit. Every _Almighty_ knew that attacking one part of a _bond_ would mean dealing with the other one as well.

That´s when Sherlock saw red. It was already too late to prevent the outburst. He could feel every pore being filled with heat. It was suffocating.

"Please, John...run." He knew it was pointless to warn his _bondmate._ John would never be fast enough to escape the danger zone. What an irony. He wanted to save him but all he was doing is to put him into more danger. He hoped that whatever John Watson possesses, it would be strong enough to shield him again.

Just when he thought he couldn´t take it anymore everything exploded.

* * *

When John woke up his first instinct was to find Sherlock. He slowly pushed himself up a little bit. It took more effort than it should. That´s when he noticed the smell. _Ashes and Sulfur._

He almost couldn´t believe the view that took place in front of his eyes. Everything was burnt down pitch black.

"What the hell..."

He heard a moan behind him. _Sherlock_. John ran as fast as he could to the _Almighty._ When Sherlock caught sight of him he could see relief in his eyes. The moment he reached him he found himself suddenly wrapped in two long slender arms. It took him two seconds to realise that Sherlock was hugging him, while still kneeling on the ground. He was sure they must look absolutely ridicilous.

"You are alright...thank you." John could barely surpressed a laugh. Why and of what was his _bondmate_ thankful for? But one glance at Sherlock told him that it was better to be quiet. His _bondmate_ has closed his eyes, brows furrowed into a sorrowful facial expression.

"Err...yes. I´m alright." Standing that close to Sherlock, he noticed the wound on his side from that spell earlier. John felt the urge to kill that man, who has done that to him.

"Sherlock...you are bleeding."

His _bondmate_ must have come to his senses again because he quickly released him and tried to stand up.

"It´s fine, John."

"No it´s not. Would you tell me what happened? We´re standing in the middle of a battlefield! And it turns out, _surprise_ , I´m miraculously immune to magic."

"Look, John. I really like to talk with you right now. But we have wasted a lot of time. Let´s have a conversation later. We have to retrieve the cup first."

Although John didn´t want anything more than answers he knew that Sherlock was right. It was almost dawn and they still didn´t have fulfiled the task.

"Shouldn´t the cup be...well..burnt as well?"

"It´s made of a speacial material. It should be lying somewhere. Wait."

He saw the cup suddenly appearing in Sherlock´s hand.

"I got it."

John was relieved to see the eyes of his _bondmate_ changing back to their normal colour.

Those white eyes did make him look terrifying. His couldn´t deny that the wound looked bad, too.

Sherlock must have guessed his thoughts.

"Don´t worry. I´ve told you that I´m fine."

Just when he thought that they could make their way to the waterfall, he saw a raven-haired man approaching them. Moriarty.

"Oh, give us a break!"

"My, my! What happened here?"

The question didn´t seem like on at all. Jim was obviously thrilled about the situation.

"What do you want, Moriarty?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to check if you´re alright. That was some nasty fight earlier."

John snorted.

"As far as I´m concerned I cannot recall you having done anything to prevent it."

"Don´t bother, John. Just ignore him. We´re wasting our time." He turned around to see Sherlock wearing his annoyed facial expression. It wasn´t enough to mask his pain, though.

John didn´t expect Moriarty to suddenly get very mad.

"Nobody ignores _me_." Without thinking twice John stretched his arms out. If the other man should attack them the spell should at least hit him and not Sherlock.

He blindly trusted his weird ability to block magic.  
And he was right. As soon as the spell made contact with his chest it vanished.

He half expected Moriarty to be surpressed like the other _Almighties_ were, when they found out. All he could see was the _Almighty_ grinning and then laughing out loud.

"What a surprise! I change my mind. John Watson, really, you´re sooo interesting. Hmmm..the things I could do with you."

John didn´t want to know. He heard Sherlock growling behind him. _Please, don´t let him have another one of his outburst..._

"Don´t even try to touch him."

"And what if I do? What then? Look at you, Sherlock. You can barely stand. You bore me to _death_."

John took advantage of Moriarty´s attention on his _bondmate_.

With one swift motion he grasped the man by his neck. Sherlock saw a grim determination on the _common man´s_ face. He would protect him no matter what.

"I´ve got him, Sherlock. Run!"

He didn´t expect the other man laughing with excitement.

"Ohh.. _.good!_ I certainly didn´t see this coming _but._..you better release me now. We don´t want Sebastian getting mad at you, do we."

John followed Moriarty´s glance to notice a small red dot on Sherlock´s forehead. He tried to locate the source, when his eyes finally landed on Moran, who apparently has been told to stay alert in the background.

"Besides, we never really wanted to harm you. I got just a little bit curious about you, John Watson. Can´t help it. That´s just so _me._ Now if you would kindly let go of me..."

John saw Sherlock´s adam´s apple going up and down. With a spell that focused on him, there was no other chance but to surrender. He wouldn´t be fast enough to summon a shelter against Moran´s spell.

The _Almighty_ saw his _bondmate_ slowly retreating his arms from the other man. Jim only grinned, which gave him the opportunity to show his perfect white teeth and flatten his jacket with his hands.

"Really. Just a little game between friends. I´m quite thrilled about your pet, Sherlock. You have to let me borrow him from time to time. Boys...it was fun. We´ll see each other in the next round. _Until then..."_

John almost exhaled in relief, when Moriarty turned around.

"Whups... silly me. Forgot something. It would be boring if you woudn´t be able to fulfil your task. Don´t dawdle."

John caught a flask. It was filled with water. He suspected it was from the waterfall.

With only a snapping Jim Moriarty disappeared. John could see Moran going out of their field of view, too.

"They are leaving us alone. For now."

"Sherlock...why would Moriarty help us out?"

"I don´t know."

"Wouldn´t that be cheating if we use the water from him?"

"That. Or we will get disqualified."

In the end, they agreed to pour the water into the cup and go back to the starting point. Which proved to be a little difficult, now with Sherlock being injured and John having to carry the cup, which seemed to get heavier minute by minute.

They weren´t really surprised about the numbers of couples left for the final round. Despite of the rule to play fair, it was obvious that many of them weren´t able to continue due to injuries or ongoing fights. Unfortunately, time was limited.

When they arrived with the cup, limping and full of bruises, the crowd welcomed them with loud cheering.

* * *

_It seems like the last couple has finally arrived! Good for you boys. Just in time before the disqualification! Ladies and gentlemen...just give our participants a big applause! We will see you next week at the finals!_

* * *

John barely noticed someone taking the cup out of his hands. He didn´t see Mycroft worried facial expression over Sherlock´s injury, either. He was just too damn tired.

Nobody said a word when they were at Bakerstreet again.

John slowly peeled off his jacket and went straight to the living room. He noticed Sherlock´s eyes following him through every movement. Thank god the wound turned out to be not fatal. The healer told him to get a good rest for a couple of days and everything would heal nicely.

"That thing what you did there...it was...good."

There was a slight crack in the _Almighty´s_ usually deep and steady voice. As if he was afraid that one false word could break his _bondmate._

"Sherlock."

It was just one name. John had only strength left to whisper one particular name.

"Why did you hide it from me?"

"My broken childhood? The fact that I could explode like a volcano if my emotions run a little high? Or the fact that you can just block magic with no effort at all?" John turned his head to meet the _Almighty´s_ eyes. Sad eyes. He was surprised that Sherlock was able to reflect such a strong emotion in them.

"You know what I mean..."

He heard Sherlock laughed. It sounded defeated to his ears.

"All my life I was able to deduce people like an open book. What they did days ago, what they planned to do in the future...what they were thinking _right now_. And I thought it was the same with you, John. No offense but you aren´t exactly discret.

And then you keep surprising me...first your hair...then your hidden ability...and for the first time in my life, I don´t know. _I just don´t know._ "

He lifted his head and seemed to looked at something in the distance.

John pulled the right corner of his mouth up.

"But that´s good, right? Me continuing to surprise you...that´s a good thing, right Sherlock?"

_Because I am afraid, that one day, you´ll get bored with me and then I will be one of those thousand people you chose to ignore._

"I guess. _"_

_I´m afraid, John. I´m afraid that one day there will be a surprise again and I won´t be able to control the situation. I won´t be able to protect you._

"And now? What should we do now, Sherlock?"

He watched the _Almighty_ quietly lighten a pipe. Now thinking about it, he has never seen Sherlock smoking, although he smelled of tobbaco.

John watched Sherlock´s long and controlled exhales. His eyes wandered to the hip.

After the first round they immediately rushed to St. Barts. Although Sherlock insisted that he was fine, his brother seemed to have another opinion about the wound.

He remembered Molly´s word.

" _...healing yourself is very powerful magic."_

It seemed that even Sherlock Holmes wasn´t capable to do that. He heard the other man coughing.

"You know, you really shouldn´t be smoking with your cold."

"Shouldn´t. Wouldn´t. People only live once, still they deny themselves some pleasure. It´s a shame, really."

"And now? What should we do now?"

"Now? We are going to eat something. Come on, I know a good place."

 _"You_ recommending a place, where we could actually _eat_ something? The world must be ending."

"Don´t be daft, John. Dinner´s on me."

There was an uneasy feeling in his chest.

He tried to sleep but the pulling feeling wouldn´t stop. Weird. Maybe he ate something wrong. John knew he should have refused the second dessert from Angelo. The restaurant owner had especially prepared them a big menu but with Sherlock only eating a quarter of it, John had to eat more then usual. He hated wasting food.

With a shrug John ignored the ache and tried to sleep again. He only rolled to his side when the ache became suddenly unbearable. The pulling had turn into a stabbing pain.

_O god._

He hasn´t suffered that much pain since the encounter with the hunters, who responsible for the the scar on his shoulder.

_Sherlock. I have to go to Sherlock._

With trembling limbs he tried to make his way to the room downstairs. When he reached the living room he almost felt like passing out. What stopped him from doing so was the sight of his _bondmate._ Sherlock looked almost as white as his bedsheet while his left hand was clutching his chest, so firm, that his knuckles went white as well.

John bet he must look the same.

"Sherlock..."

The Almighty looked up to meet his eyes. He was obviously having trouble with his breathing.

"Quick, John. Touch me."

If there was one thing he learned from Sherlock, it is to never question his demands. It didn´t matter how weird and ridiculous they seemed to be.

With one fluent motion he almost tackled the _Almighty_ to the ground. When his fingertips made contact with Sherlock´s chin he felt the stabbing pain slowly disappearing.

The lay on the floor for a couple of minutes, trying to adjust to the fading pain.

"What on earth happened, Sherlock?"

"It´s the _bond._ "

"Oh what now? "

Sherlock chuckled quietly. John could almost feel the vibration coming off his _bondmate´s_ chest. He wondered how long they would stay in this position. With him being on top of the _Almighty._

 _Wood and tobacco..._ he liked that smell.

"Mycroft must have told you that as _bondmates_ we cannot be apart for too long."

"I think he has failed to mention the excruciating pain..."

"And this is why I never wanted to _bond_. _"_ The statement didn´t sound like a blame or an accusation. It was plainly Sherlock´s opinion. John felt guilty anyway.

"But in a way, I´m glad that it was you, John."

"Huh?"

"If I had the choice to pick someone, it would have been y _ou."_ John thought he might be mistaken but he could swear he saw a slight pink shade tinting the other man´s cheeks.

"Don´t get me wrong. I still prefer to be alone. Eat alone. Work alone. But it´s sometimes quite nice to have the company of someone more simple-minded."

"Sherlock!"

"You know what I mean, John."

Although he wanted to deny it he found himself that he couldn´t.

"I´m glad, too, Sherlock. All my life, I was getting hunted for my hair. I had to hide myself and be prepared for the worst, if somebody would have found out my secret. I´m not saying that I did the right thing, with stepping into your home." He laughed at the last bit. "But I´m happy that I did it. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have the strength to achieve something. I feel like being understood by someone."

_Because you gave me a purpose._

"Hmm..I´m...not happy with how things went this way."

It was John´s turn to chuckle. ( _Would it kill him to be nice for just once in his life?)_ before he laid his eyes on the wound. It was wrapped up but he knew that the thing underneath all those white bandages reminded him of how vulnerable Sherlock really was.

If somebody would have told him one month ago that he would soon share a _bond_ with this man, he would have laughed at them.

While Sherlock was getting comfortable with John on top of him, he thought about various things.

His brother was probably still searching for some information about John.

He didn´t need Mycroft to tell him that his sickness had something to do with his _bondmate_.

He knew with no doubt that his magic was being affected by the other man´s hidden power. There was a slight risk that he could get seriously ill, if he would continue to stay at John´s side.

On the other hand, if they won´t stay together, chances were higher that they could die. He was sure that the pain in his chest was only a taste from what would come, if John and he are being seperated for too long.

He cracked one eye open to find John already sleeping.

One top of him. With barely any clothes on.

And the most shocking part was that he didn´t mind.

He snapped with his fingers and suddenly a light duvet covered them both.

Sherlock stole one final glance at John before he closed his eyes, too.

_We can worry about things later._

* * *

**Next chapter: With the big the day getting closer and closer, S and J have to decide.**

**Is it really the right decision to dissolve the bond? What is Moriarty up to? What about J and his ability? ...Lots of questions waiting to be answered.**


	10. Breathe Me

**A/N: Warning! Rating M**

**Previously:**

_He snapped with his fingers and suddenly a light duvet covered them both._

_Sherlock stole one final glance at John before he closed his eyes, too._

_We can worry about things later._

* * *

" _Ha! Look at him! I knew he couldn´t defeat me. I knew it! Sherlock Holmes isn´t that strong after all, is he?" He watched the other children pointing fingers at him. Some were laughing, some were whispering behind his back. Blood was running down his chin but he didn´t care. There was this immense pressure in him. It was trying to break through his inner barrier but he couldn´t let that happen. Not with so many people around him._

_Hence he stayed silent. His concentration solely on supressing the heat._

" _Hey, why aren´t you saying anything? Ashamed of getting hit by me? Should I do it again?"..._

"Sherlock! Hey, Sherlock! Wake up!"

John was sleeping peacefully for hours when the first sunlight woke him up. At first he was confused. The mattress felt weird. Bonier and softer than usual.

_Bonier?_

It took him a couple of seconds before he realised that his head was resting against Sherlock´s chest.

Instead of getting up, he took the chance to enjoy the moment of peace. His _bondmate´s_ breathing, his scent, his facial expression...he absorbed everything while the other man was asleep.

"Priceless..." He couldn´t help but sigh contently.

Sherlock looked adorable. It was indeed a rare sight of him, having his eyes closed and not saying a word about cases, magic or crazy experiments.

John smiled. The morning light dipped them into a golden haze, which made the _Almighty´s_ hair shine in a dark brown colour and his skin glow.

There it was again, that familiar feeling in his stomach. The same one, which took him by surprise when Sherlock has kissed him. It was tingling and electrifying.

He could stay like this. Watching the other man sleep.

_O my, John. You have lost your mind completely now, haven´t you?_

Despite the confusion, he couldn´t stop himself from staring at his _bondmate._

_God...it has to be forbidden to be that beautiful._

His daydreaming was interrupted when Sherlock suddenly became twitchy. He heard a groan from the other man. It sounded as if he had a nightmare.

John didn´t hesitate and shook the _Almighty._

"Sherlock! Hey, Sherlock! Wake up!"

It didn´t take long for his _bondmate_ to open the eyes. They looked terrified. What has happened? Sherlock was never terrified.

"Hey...is everything alright?"

The expression immediately vanished. The same withdrawn and observing stare returned.

_Thank god._

"Why wouldn´t it be?"

"You were twitching in your sleep. Had a bad nightmare?"

"No."

John didn´t believe him. He couldn´t forget the fear in his _bondmate´s_ eyes.

Maybe that was the reason, why Sherlock sometimes didn´t sleep at all. Maybe he got haunted by nightmares. He was sure they were somehow related with what happened during the fight yesterday.

"John, I appreciate your attempt to keep me warm but I think going up would be nice for a change."

He almost forgot that he was still lying on top of Sherlock.

"Oh..of course. Sorry...So...last night...do we have to do that again in the future?" He hasn´t intended to let that sound so hopeful.

Sherlock put a blue robe on. John couldn´t help but noticed that the drapes around his upper body accentuated his milky skin perfectly.

"I guess we have to share a room from now on. The one upstairs would do for the purpose."

John didn´t know what to think about that but his _bondmate_ was already turning his attention on one of his experiments on the kitchen table.

"We just have to share a room. Just like that? That´s it?"

"What else do you want us to do, John?" Sherlock raised one eyebrow expectantly.

"Uhm..nothing."

"Fine. All questions answered."

John sat a little helpless on the couch, when his eyes caught the sight of a parchment roll on the table.

"Sherlock, what´s this? I can´t remember that lying on the table yesterday."

"Read." The _common_ man snorted at the demand.

" It says ´ _Sherlock. To Molly. Now.´_ "

"It´s from Lestrade. Come John. Put some clothes on."

"What? Like right now? Where are we going?"

-"Where do you think?"

They weren´t outside for long when John´s embarrassment could be heard all over the street.

" _Sherlock, do you think Lestrade saw us?"_

* * *

St. Barts.

John entered the building only for the third time but it already felt like visiting an old friend. He admitted that he kind of liked the isolated atmosphere here. It made him feel like he was seperated from the rest of the world by massive stone walls.

"John, are you coming or not?"

He turned around to see Sherlock impatiently waiting for him.

"Sorry. I got lost in thoughts."

The only reply he got was Sherlock rolling with his eyes at him.

Molly greeted him with the usual broad smile.

_Chopped lips. Dark bags under the eyes. Maybe a result from stress._

"You didn´t get any sleep last night."

He watched her brows furrow in confusion for a second before she sighed in defeat.

"No. You´re right. I didn´t."

"This must be one of the complexer cases then."

"There is no escape from your observation, is there? Lestrade told me to message you in case they would get one of _them_ again." She pointed at something in their proximity.

Sherlock reached out to a body on the table.

The signs... The victim was clearly murdered with skills of dark magic. _He has killed again._

"What´s going on, Sherlock?" The _Almighty_ hasn´t expected his _bondmate_ to take interest in the corpse at all. Especially after what happened last time when they were in the autopsy.

"This man, he was murdered by the same person who killed the others from previous cases. There is no trace of magic left in him."

He let his right hand wander over the frame of the victim. Only inches above the skin.

_No. Absolutely no magic at all. Except for the spell, which nearly killed John last time._

"Fascinating." Whoever the killer was, it was clearly someone with skills way above most _Almighties´._ Absolutely fascinating. He couldn´t help but let his lips spread into a grin. Oh, how exciting, how thrilling this case got!

"Having a dead man lying here on the table shouldn´t be that funny, Sherlock." John looked at him with a grim expression.

_Earnest and good John._

Molly looked at the taller man and his _bondmate_ alternately _._

"Uhm...I´m sure Sherlock has just discovered a new hint about the murderer. That´s why he got so excited, haven´t you, Sherlock?"

"Right."

_Not even close._

He had no clue. He absolutely didn´t know where to begin. And that´s what makes this murder so interesting and challenging.

John didn´t seem to buy Molly´s excuse for one second but he wasn´t in the mood put up a fight with Sherlock.

"I think I´m going to have a look-around. You just do...whatever you do."

He wasn´t quite sure if the two _Almighties_ have heard him because they were already wrapped in work.

"I can see you, you know?"

Sherlock stopped with the preparation. With only a small motion he turned his head towards a very distracted looking Molly Hooper.

"I do hope so. If not, you have to get your eyes checked, Molly."

He saw the girl twitching her fingers nervously, as if she was unsure about how to choose her next words.

"No. I didn´t mean it like that...I...it´s just...you´re a bit like my dad."

"Excuse me?"

"He´s dead. No. Sorry. I mean...when he was dying, he was always so cheerful. He was lovely. Still trying to please everyone, when he suffered so much pain..."

She looked down on the floor.

"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area."

"..But I knew that he was afraid, too. I saw him once. He looked sad when he thought nobody could see him."

Sherlock still waited for the pointe to come. The female _Almighty_ suddenly looked up and stared at him with a new gained confidence.

"You look sad." The words filled the room like a loud whisper.

He saw Molly´s eyes flicker to John, who seemed to be focused on weird things on the shelf rather than on their conversation.

"Don´t be ridiculous. I don´t look sad."

The _Almighty_ saw her nibbling on her lower lip, taking the toll on the already dry and chopped skin.

"It´s John, isn´t it?"

_Why is everything about John?_

"Interesting. What makes you think that my ´sadness´, which I do not reflect, is caused by him?"

"No. It´s not _caused_ by him. I saw you two together. They way you behave when he is speaking to you. He entered this world not long ago but you already opened up to him. I dare to say...he knows you better than your family does.

You don´t want the _bond_ to end."

She emphasised the last sentence not like a question. Sherlock remained silent. Did he want this thing between him and John to end?

_Shadows, dancing over a man´s body. A bright laugh. Contagious and with no excuses._

_He thought of summerbreezes and fresh air. Of a secret kept unnderneath layers of clothes. Blond hair. Blue eyes._ John Watson.

The next words, thrown into the silence, took even him by surprise.

"No. I don´t want the _bond_ to end." He regretted them the second they left his mouth.

Molly´s face, on the other hand, beamed.

"But...that´s great! That´s wonderful, Sherlock!"

"Could you please turn the volume down. I don´t want John to hear any of this."

"Oh..Sorry. I mean.." The next words were whispered with a smile.

"Then just don´t participate in the competition. What are you doing it for? Oh...unless you are afraid that he doesn´t return your feelings."

Now it was the _Almighty´s_ turn to huff.

"There are no... _feelings..._ And it´s way more complicated than that."

"No. It´s not. Just tell him. I´m sure he will understand." _And seeing the way how he looked at you, you might get surprised._

"He makes me sick." He didn´t know why he even bothered to tell Molly about this.

"Sherlock, I thought you said that you didn´t want the _bond_ to be solved! There is no need to be mean to John."

Her exclamation earned her the _common_ man´s attention, who was luckily too far away to understand anything.

"What have I told you about lowering your voice. _God_ , you people. How short is your memory span really?

I meant that _literally_. For some unknown reason he´s got this effect on me. And even I am not able to withstand that much longer."

"Oh...so..due to your _bond_ you have to stay with him but his presence affects your health badly..."

"Something like that." And that´s why he wanted to keep that to himself because the pitied look she gave him moments later was something he had hoped to escaped from.

"Does he know?" Her eyes wandered off to John again, who fought with a plant this time. Its ranks have found the way around his torso. The sight was quite amusing.

"No. And I don´t intend to tell him."

"I understand."

After some seconds of silence they turned away to continue with their work.

"I´m happy for you, though. He is a good man, Sherlock. The circumstances are truly unfair for both of you. But you can count on me. If you ever need help...you know, I´ll be more than willing to...help you."

"I know."

"And Sherlock...I´m truly sorry."

"I know."

* * *

"What did you say to Molly?"

"Nothing."

After hours of boredom Sherlock finally decided it was time to head back to Bakerstreet. It took John a good couple of hours to free himself from that plant. Nobody has bothered to help him, so he felt sore and tired.

"Why did she look so sad then after we left? Were you mean to her?"

"What if I was?"

"Seriously, Sherlock. Be nice to her. You don´t know what women are capable of doing." He shuddered when he remebered the pranks Harry used to play at him sometimes after they had a fight.

"I´m sure I can handle her. Besides, you have to be more observing. She wasn´t _sad._ "

No. Molly Hooper was just disappointed and angry that fate has played such a cruel trick on her friends.

The following days almost passed in a blur. Of course, they were practising twice as much than usual, although his _bondmate_ didn´t regain his full strength _._ Mycroft occassionaly dropped by and asked for Sherlock. John wasn´t an idiot. He knew they were talking about him and it made him feel anxious that neither of the brothers seem to know the reason, why he could block magic.

"Mycroft again?"

"Hmm."

"What were you two talking about?"

"Usual things. _Can you help me, brother, with this thing and that thing._ And then there is my reply to stop bothering me. And he was threatening to tell my mother about my misbehaving as a _Holmes._ "

"I don´t know why you won´t just say yes, if the outcome is always the same."

"This is Mycroft we are talking about. He doesn´t get what he wants without a little bit of bickering. Believe me. He enjoys it."

John wasn´t so sure about that, seeing how the older Holmes turn into an unhealthy shade of red everytime he argues with his brother.

"Tomorrow´s the big day." He tried to hide the sadness in his voice. What´s the point of feeling down, if that means he could be a free man again?

Sharing a room with Sherlock Holmes has proved to be a difficult thing. The _Almighty_ insisted on sleeping on the bed while John had to take the couch next to it. Although there were plenty of room for another three men, his _bondmate_ complained about not being able to think clearly the next day if John would bother him at night.

The _common_ man didn´t even know why he acquiesced. Sherlock didn´t even sleep for most nights. If anything, _he_ prevent John from sleeping when he decided to unpack his violin at night, doing experiments in their bedroom or leaving the light on to study the books for hours.

Yeah, John was definitely glad about the upcoming competition.

"I know."

"Sherlock, do you think we will meet Moriarty and Moran again?"

"Quite possible."

John fumbled, absorbed in thought, with his shirt. The question why they had helped them through the next round still lingered in his mind.

"...whatever. I´m starving. Angelo´s or my cooking?

"I´m not hungry."

"You barely ate since the competition! For god´s sake you have to eat _something_. You´re not even fully recovered yet!"

"Quiet, John. I need to think."

"Fine. Think whatever you want. But you will eat tonight or I´ll refuse to participate tomorrow."

John wasn´t prepared for Sherlock turning around and studying his face at the distance of one inch. He nearly bumped into the taller man but it was just his nose nearly touching the _Almighty´s_.

His heart skippped a beat.

"Is this suppose to be a threat? If so, you´re not doing a very good job then."

"Uhh..."

Sherlock chuckled slightly at the lack of response.

"Fine. I´ll join you for dinner but only because I have to endure your presence the whole night. Now you have to promise me that you will stop with your blabbering. "

"Sherlock! It´s always you, who´s a disturbance at night!"

* * *

John hummed quite happily while he chopped the onions into little pieces.

He opened the drawer to find three bottles of wine, he hasn´t seen before.

"Mrs. Hudson´s present with the wish to loosen up sometimes. Though I don´t know how drinking wine could possibly _´loosen someone up´_ as she has put it."

"You have never drunk alcohol?" John couldn´t believe it. How could that man claim that he has lived his life?

"From research, I know alcohol clouds your mind, affects your health and reveals hidden secrets. So no. I don´t see the need to drink something like this."

" _From research_...seriously Sherlock, we have to let you live a little." He reached for two glasses, opened one bottle and filled them with the red liquid.

"Here. Drink. Let´s say it´s a toast for tomorrow´s success."

Sherlock glanced at his glass.

"O come on. One glass wouldn´t kill you. Besides, I think it would go well with the pasta I´ve cooked."

"Who said I´ll eat your _pasta?_ "

"Well, you said you would..."

"..Join you, yes. But I didn´t mention to eat anything of the dish you´ve made."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. God, living with this man could be annoying sometimes.

"Fine. Then could you just do me the favour and sip at the wine because this may possibly be the last night I´m spending with you and I want to celebrate a little."

Did he imagined a look of hurt appearing on the _Almighty´s_ face?

"Fine. One gulp. Just for you. Happy now?"

But it didn´t stick to just one gulp.

Sherlock was one of the worst drinker John has ever came across. Soon the three bottles were turning into half a bottle.

"...and then I swirled with my hands like this." The _Almighty_ was giggling loudly and did a strange motion with his hands.

"And Mycroft´s room was fu...full of insects?" John himself could barely sit straight anymore. His stomach hurt from all the laughing.

"Noooo...better. I imagined thousands of mice. Cause...erg... Macoft..I mean, _Mycroft´s_ got a secret phobia of mice. Why do you think he purchased Anthea in the first place?"

John grinned widely.

"And I thought he was just trying to be all mysterious with the suit, the umbrella and his black cat."

"You think my brother is...mysterious?"

They laughed until they couldn´t breathe anymore. John never thought he would hear such a wonderful sound coming from Sherlock.

"And what do you think of me?"

All the giggling disappeared suddenly. His _bondmate´s_ facial expression turned serious. Sharp grey eyes were staring so intensely at him that his throat became dry and he had to swallow before he could possibly use his voice.

And at this moment it hit him with full force. Suddenly it became all clear why he couldn´t stop thinking about the taller man. Why he couldn´t stop longing for those lips on his skin again.

He fell in love with him.

_He loved Sherlock._

The idiot, who would annoy him most of the time, who would save him from drowning and who would make sure that he was safe, although he was injured himself.

John wasn´t quite sure if the word love was right in this case but if it wasn´t, what else could it be? What else would fit to describe the burning, the desperate need to stay by his _bondmate´s_ side forever?

He didn´t even hesitate for a second when he pulled at the back of Sherlock´s neck and kissed him. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was because he felt so alone but he didn´t care. All he wanted was to feel the other man.

_Holy mother of god._

At first he was terrified. His _bondmate_ stiffened completely against him and didn´t even move a muscle. John tried to move his lips, tried to animate Sherlock to do the same.

When there was still no reaction from the other man he felt embarrassed. Has he destroyed their friendship in the hope that the other man would feel the same?

_O god...Sherlock will kill me._

John was already prepared to apologize, maybe he could blame the alcohol for his reckless behaviour. He pulled back but a hand against the back of his head stopped him from doing so. When did that happen?

"Don´t." There was just Sherlock´s voice and nothing else. Blue met icy grey. He could see fear, confusion, hesitation...and love?

This time his _bondmate_ took the opportunity to press his lips against John´s. It felt soft and warm. It wasn´t like those pecks they previously shared. This time their kissing felt familiar and relaxed.

It felt _right._

His hands almost automatically slipped under Sherlock´s shirt, exploring the hidden skin area and caressing the shoulders.

He heard a low moan escaping from his lips. Sherlock´s hands were doing the same, except one was buried into his hair, slightly pulling at the golden hair. When did he took his cap off?

The soft kissing turned into a playful and exploring game. John felt confident enough to open his mouth a little and let his tongue slip into the other man´s mouth.

 _Wow._ Sherlock tasted even better than he could recall. He could make out a small trace of tomatoes and herbs.

 _Liar._ So he did eat the dish. He paused and chuckled slightly, while the other man let one finger running down his spine. John shuddered from pleaure.

"Found something funny?" He looked up to see Sherlock smiling, too. The _Almighty_ was quite a sight, with his pupils dilated and his hair messed up. John was sure that he was in the same state.

"Just thinking what an idiot you are."

"You do know that statistically speaking my IQ says something different."

John laughed.

"And that´s why you are an idiot."

"No more talking, John."

Sherlock pushed his _bondmate_ against the table, lips this time exploring the other man´s neck.

John was sure he would die from the shivers and pleasure. Long and skillful hands were tugging at his shirt, pulling it up over his head and freeing him from the bothersome piece of clothing.

He was aware that his trousers became tighter and with Sherlock´s hip pressing against his, John noticed that he was not the only one aroused. The kissing became more passionate and demanding.

Deciding that it was his _bondmate´s_ turn to be getting rid of his clothes he tugged at the other man´s shirt. Sherlock put one hand over his to stop him. For a second John was afraid that he has crossed the line but the next word erased his worries.

"Bedroom." Sherlock didn´t need to say that twice.

All the way upstairs they couldn´t stop themselves from groping and kissing. It was as if they made up for the lost time.

With a quiet _tuff_ John landed with his back on the matress, while still holding on to the other man above him.

After some ripping and throwing Sherlock was semi-naked, too. They didn´t rush with whatever they were doing. John felt his _bondmate´s_ steamy breath graze his right ear. The tingling in his stomach was almost too much to bear and he needed more of Sherlock. More skin and just..more.

A hand brushed against his groin but didn´t attempt to free him from his trousers.

"Uhnn..." He didn´t make this embarrassing sound, did he?

Sherlock, on the other hand, was focusing on the scars on his body. He brushed them with his lips and kissed them lightly. As if he could erase them with his love only.

"Don´t." John didn´t want his _bondmate_ to study them further. They were an ugly part of him.

"You are perfect, John. Everything about you is perfect." He didn´t need to say anything else. The _common_ man knew he would give everything to Sherlock. He would give _himself_ to him.

Again, he felt fingertips slowly making their way downwards. The tingling became stronger, his breathing shallower and quicker.

"O _god..._ Sherlock...wait...wait."

Grey eyes were looking at him in confusion.

"It doesn´t feel good?"

"Yes...No...I mean...I´ve never done that before."

"You are a virgin?" Jesus, why did the man have to be so direct? He felt the embarrassment creeping up to his cheeks.

"No. I mean...with a man."

"Neither have I."

Sherlock felt John´s pulse quicken and his eyes nervously flicker from right to left.

"Don´t worry. We don´t have to do anything tonight."

John nodded slowly, before he kissed the other man again.

* * *

When his _bondmate_ has pressed his lips against him, Sherlock´s first impulse was to shove him off.

Somehow his body didn´t react.

John was _kissing_ him.

The first real kiss.

No. Not the first. He could recall the feeling of soft skin on his lips from a moment in the past.

A memory was slowly appearing in his mind. Fuzzy and unclear. As if it was captured in a mist...fever...

He has kissed John first...

When did that happen? Why hasn´t his _bondmate_ mentioned any of this?

He felt the pressure on his lips weaken. Blue eyes were looking at him with fear.

Sherlock wanted to tell John to forget what has happened. He wanted to reassure him that it wouldnt change anything between them but what he really did was to kiss him back.

It felt _great._

When they were in the room upstairs he couldn´t hold his desire back anymore.

He wanted more of John. He wanted to taste every part of him. His fingers were curiosly exploring the lower parts of his _bondmate´s_ body when John suddenly told him to stop.

He blushed at his question if he was still untouched _there_. Of course he didn´t tell John that _he_ never was that intimate with anyone before.

It didn´t matter. They had plenty of time.

John´s eyes reflected relief when he told him that they could wait.

Sherlock couldn´t lie. Although he appeared to be very confident about this whole thing he was kind of anxious, too.

He has never felt anything like this before for anyone.

He moaned when John scratched his back with his fingernails and pressed his groin against John´s as a reaction.

"Ahh..." The other man moaned loudly into his ear and he felt impossibly turned on by this.

They still had their trousers on but the friction of their hardened cocks through the soft material was enough to let them see stars. John spread his legs wider to deepen the tension.

The _Almighty_ continued to shift in a steady rhythm.

_Up and down, up and down._

His hands wander from John´s chest to the side of his neck, grabbing him firmly so he could stare intensely into his eyes. Their breathing quickened and neither of them dared to look away, afraid that everything could be just a dream.

The _common_ man was burning and desperate for a release. He clutched onto the back of Sherlock´s neck and moved his pelvis in an upward motion, hoping that it would be enough to send him off.

It wasn´t.

They were still kissing but it was more like a breathing into each other´s mouth.

Sherlock groaned. Then he did something daring. One hand reached into John´s pants and the thumb slightly touched the wet tip of his cock.

John felt spasms going through his body.

"Fuck, Sherlock." His lips were swollen and the eyes were almost pitch-black because of dilatation.

The _Almighty_ didn´t know how John did it but somehow he flipped them over until he was on top of him.

The _common_ man didn´t waste any time and pulled Sherlock´s pants down, revealing his throbbing cock. He grabbed it and began to stroke it in a steady motion.

With fascination he watched Sherlock´s mouth going slack. The other man was mumbling incoherently while trying to give John the same pleasure.

Neither of them were kissing anymore. They just kept on staring at each other, only focusiong on the slowly rising heeatwave in their stomach.

Then Sherlock increased the pacing and John could have sworn that he let out an embarrasing moan. His whole body trembled.

"If you go on like this, I´m going to.." He didn´t even finished the sentence because Sherlock only looked at him mischievously before he managed to move his hand even faster.

John practically hurtled into orgasm. Every part of his body was under tension and the vision in front of his eyes became blurred. For a moment he was afraid that he had gone blind but after a few seconds he was able to see clearly again. See the sweat beads trailing down from Sherlock´s collarbone to his navel.

Not long after his release he heard the _Almighty_ crying out loud and jerking under him before he went completely limp.

John felt...sticky but most importantly satisfied.

They still felt little shudders from the aftershock and neither of them was able to say anything due to exhaustion. They didn´t need to.

Sherlock let his left hand lazily caressing John´s back. The other man was almost asleep when he heard a soft whisper.

"I love you, John."

* * *

This time Sherlock was awake first. His head was buzzing and his mouth felt incredibly dry.

_Red wine. Alcohol. Not good._

He felt someone stir beside him. John. Semi-naked. Sherlock. Semi-naked.

_Not good._

The memories from last night rushed through his head like a bad movie. What has he done?

He hasn´t intended to let his relationship with his _bondmate_ expand to...this.

"Good morning." John was wearing this smile on his face. The kind you wear when you had great sex with someone you love.

_Again. Not good._

He had thrown his principles away without even considering the consequences. Sherlock couldn´t deny the affection for his _bondmate_ any longer but the problem with the _bond_ hasn´t been resolved, yet.

He felt himself growing weaker and weaker during the last days just because he still wasn´t able to find a solution for his dilemma. He knew that Mycroft didn´t have a clue either, so their only hope was to find the _flame._ But would John understand? How could he tell him that the reason he felt sick, was because of him? What if they would fail in the competition? How would they go on then?

His rational mind told him to do one thing.

_Push him away._

"Morning."

"I slept like a baby." John sprawled and sighed contently.

"Hm..."

The _common_ man knew that the silence couldn´t mean something good.

"What´s wrong?"

"Look, John...last night..."

_Please, Sherlock. Don´t. Please don´t. Don´t push me away._

"I think it´s for the best if we would forget what has happened between us."

John felt his heart dropping.

"What?..." He whispered. How could everything so wonderful turn into a nightmare in seconds?

"Look. Clearly we were not in the right state of our minds. There were those bottles of wine and..."

"Now _don´t_ make excuses for what we did! This isn´t like you at all! You knew excatly what you were doing...and it was great. At least it felt great to me."

John remembered the last words he heard before he fell asleep. Were they only wishful thinking?

Sherlock had to resist a smile. John had feelings for him. he accepted him! But happiness didn´t last long.

"It wasn´t great for me."

"I don´t believe you. Nobody could fake that, not even you, Sherlock Holmes."

The _Almighty_ knew that he had to be harsh and unforgivable. John would persist otherwise.

He felt like slapping himself when he said the following words while grabbing his bondmate´s wrist with both hands.

"Why won´t you understand? _I don´t want you."_

John couldn´t believe it. His eyes were searching for a sign of a lie for anything but when he found none he gave up.

"I understand." He smiled coldly while gathering his clothes from the floor. John refused to look at the other man on the bed. Chances were great that he would have had a breakdown if he did.

Hence he didn´t saw Sherlock´s pain when he closed the door.

* * *

They didn´t talk the entire morning. And John was too proud, too hurt to be the first to start a conversation _._ A part of him wished that yesterday never happened. They could´ve stayed friends if he wouldn´t have been so stupid to approached Sherlock.

Just friends.

It took him two minutes to realise that even that wouldn´t have lasted long.

No.

Sooner or later he would have given up. John would have reacted exactly the same way he did yesterday.

And Sherlock would have given him the exact same answer.

" _I don´t want you..."_

Sherlock was rich, good looking, powerful...he was everything that a _common_ man like him was not.

He didn´t know what to feel when they stopped at the entrance of the forest.

* * *

_"Stop! From now on family is forbidden to continue. Please say your goodbyes and gather at the meeting point."_

* * *

Their guide was looking at the people around them. Sherlock had to calm Mrs. Hudson , who was bursting into tears.

"Don´t worry. What´s the worst that can happen? Sure, possible scenarios would be that we could get injured, bleed to death, being shot ..." John didn´t think he was doing a good job with it.

The _Holmes_ family kept it very simple. They only received a small nodding and even a smile from Mycroft.

"Good luck, brother."

"I won´t need it, Mycroft. Save it for the others."

It was their way of showing their respect towards each other. Obviously.

John looked around. Moriarty was only 12 feet away. He was chewing gum while looking slightly bored.

_"I don´t think I have to explain the rules, again. Your task is to find the flame and return to this meeting point. Simple. Now I´ll count._

_One...two...three...let the search begin!"_

It was almost like the last time, except John and Sherlock were still not talking to each other.

After hours of roaming there was still no signs of a flame.

John began to doubt the existence of it. The only good part was that they didn´t encountered the other couples.

The _Almighty_ found it weird, though.

_Strange. It´s almost too quiet._

The sky was already showing signs of a deep blue when they saw something glowing between the trees.

Without hesitation John and Sherlock ran towards the light.

_One step...two steps..._

There it was.

The _flame of Noyta_ was floating freely in the air, waiting to be discovered by curious men. Sherlock reached out and was surprised to see John doing the same. It felt warm in their hands.

He waited.

Nothing happened. The taller man couldn´t hide the disappointment. That thing was the _flame_? The most powerful source of magic?

John frowned and looked at the flickering in his hands.

"It´s too easy."

There was no reply from Sherlock.

_Right. We don´t talk to each other anymore..._

_This is ridicilous._

He sighed. Fine. He could be the one talking if Sherlock´s too proud.

But when he looked up he saw no one.

The other man has disappeared.

* * *

"John... _John!_ "

"You searching for something, Sherlock?"

He turned around to meet a familiar face. Moriarty.

"What have you done to him?"

"You mean to Johnny-Boy? No need to worry...he´s in good hands. I´m sure Seb will take _good_ care of him."

Sherlock eyes narrowed.

"If anything happens to him, I swear..."

" _Oh please_...I beg for it. Besides... _If_ anything happens to him how will it affect you? Did you already forget? You will lose your magic."

"There are other ways to kill you besides magic."

"I can´t wait for you to show me." Moriarty had his hands buried into the pockets of his expensive suit.

To Sherlock he looked relaxed. Absolutely not as if he was in any competition...

"This whole thing...it isn´t about the _flame of Noyta_ , is it?"

The other man laughed.

" _Brilliant!_ Go on."

"The other contestants...you killed them, didn´t you? There is no way that we could have walked straight to the _flame_ without some help."

"Yeah...Seb and I had some difficulties with them but killing...noooo...they are sleeping. Ok, I admit it. Some of them may sleep a teensy bit longer than intended."

"So your goal was to get _us_ to the flame. So it could teleport me to you, leaving John behind."

" _Very good._..Yes. Everything had to allure you to me. Of course I started the rumor that someone had miraculously found traces of the _flame of Noyta_. Remember, it was someone from the household _Moriarty._ " He rolled with his eyes.

"Really... People can be so naive sometimes."

"Why go through such a great length only to kill me?"

"Oh I don´t want to kill you!" He paused. "... Ok, ok. Maybe I do. But you see...I´m so bored. I was fifteen when one day a young boy sneaked into one of my rooms. I knew that he was something special. Those eyes. The aura. So powerful. _Thrilling!_ ...But you are a _Holmes._ Of course you were being protected all the time. And I´m ashamed to say that even I wouldn´t have been able to break through the protection around you. So I waited. All those long, loooong years I´ve waited. And suddenly John came along."

He flipped his tie towards the sky only for it to land with a quiet _thud_ on his chest again.

"You said you never wanted to _bond_ but I guess people can change sometimes. Well...they do _all_ the time. Whatever...I heard you weren´t satisfied with Johnny so I came up with the competition. Solving a _bond_ proves to be such a hard task, isn´t it, Sherlock?"

"Did you finish your speech? Should we begin now?"

"Patience. I don´t want to kill you,... _yet._ Let´s see who´s the first to lose the magic _._ Seb or John. Who will be the winner?"

Sherlock didn´t even want to think about losing John. Not after what happened between them.

"What could stop me from killing _you?_ "

"I don´t know...maybe the _spell directed at your head_?" He shouted the last words.

The _Almighty_ knew he wouldn´t be fast enough before it would kill him. He felt anger rising in him. The heat was consuming him...he was never more thankful for it.

"Ah, ah, ah...don´t even think about it. _Please.._.don´t disgrace me. Your little outburst won´t harm me. You can try if you want to but it would be a better idea to save your energy for the actual fight."

Sherlock clenched his teeth.

"It´s not something I can control."

"Then _try..._ Meanwhile I´m going to pour myself a nice cup of tea. Do you want some, too? _"_

The other man didn´t reply. His thoughts were only on his _bondmate._

* * *

To say that John was getting nervous was an understatement.

_Ok. Just stay calm. Just...stay calm. So what if Sherlock just left you alone in this dark and creepy forest? Just..._

Who was he kidding? Nobody could stay calm, when their _bondmate_ has just disappeared into thin air, right in the middle of nowhere.

"Okay, Sherlock. You can come out now. This is not funny. " He hated how terrified his voice sounded.

"Sherlock? _Please?_ "

"Well then, I think I am in no position to say no, if a man is going to beg me like this" John immediately tensed up. The voice...it sounded familiar.

He saw a figure slowly stepping out of the shadows. John felt it before he could even reognize the person, who was standing in front of him.

This aura. The kind of those, which gave you goosebumps all over the skin.

_Sebastian Moran._

"Nice to see you again, John Watson. I think our last meeting was rather...unpleasant. Believe me, it was all Jim´s doing. I would have never threaten a good man´s life willingly."

He didn´t believe him for one second.

"Moran...where is Sherlock? What have you done to him?"

"I don´t know. What makes you think that I have done anything to him?"

It didn´t took John long to count two and two together. Moriarty. Sherlock was with Moriarty.

"Just..." Well...what could he possibly do to an _Almighty,_ who could kill him with just a snip of his fingers?

"Look, Sebastian. I know you´re a good man. For some reason you bonded with this psychopath, who is way beyond repair but I know that _you_ are not evil. " Or at least he hoped so.

"I don´t know what Moriarty is doing to you or what he has promised you but you can´t just let this happen...I mean...you don´t have to put up a big front."

Every hope to find his _bondmate_ turned into dust when the other man threw his head back in a laughing fit.

"No wonder Jim has grown fond of you. You are a very funny man. Who said that Jim is _making_ me do all these things? You see, just because I don´t always agree with him doesn´t mean that I fear him. He just gets so moody sometimes if things aren´t going as smoothly as he would´ve liked it. I can´t stand him being angry or sad so I like to do everything in my power to please him. If anything, I _wanted_ to _bond_ with him. And I can count myself lucky that he was willing to do me the honour to be his partner."

John didn´t know what to say after that. Why did he have to deal with this situation anyway?

"And what are you going to do now?"

"Kill you."

_Shit... What have I done to deserve all of this?_

"Yeah...Well, sorry to disappoint you but I believe that magic won´t work in my case." He hoped that magic won´t work with him. Otherwise he could say goodbye to his life right now.

Unfortunately Moran didn´t seem surprised.

"What kind of a killer would I be if I haven´t been prepared for our meeting? James and I already thought that the usual procedure won´t work. So we got you this."

The _Almighty_ reached into a bag next to him and revealed a crossbow. Its size wasn´t very impressive but to John it looked deadly enough.

"I´m sure you already know that shooting is my secret passion. Those arrows were soaked into a special tincture. Poison so powerful, even the lightest touch could make you faint in an instant. The look of utter surprise when I hit my targets...it´s quite satisfying. " He stroked the weapon lovingly.

The gesture gave the _common_ man chills.

"I was wrong. Moriarty and you fit together perfectly."

The other man smiled.

"I have hoped that you would say that. Now run for me." John couldn´t even move a muscle when an arrow flew pass his left ear. It missed him just enough so the tip with poison wouldn´t touch him.

"I said run. Next time I´ll make sure that I won´t spare your life."

John didn´t need to hear this twice. Moran laughed while he ran through the forest, hoping to find shelter between the trees, though he knew that it was kind of pointless. The other man just wanted to play a game. He would end up dead soon enough.

* * *

**Next chapter: Well...only one or two chapters left, so I won´t give any spoilers away. It would be interesting what** _you_ **think will happen.**

 


	11. Lights

**Previously:**

_The other man smiled._

_"I had hoped that you would say that. Now run for me." John couldn't even move a muscle when an arrow flew pass his left ear. It missed him just enough so the tip with poison didn't touch him._

_"I said run. Next time I'll make sure I don't miss."_

_John didn't need to hear this twice. Moran laughed while he ran through the forest, hoping to find shelter between the trees, though he knew that it was kind of pointless. The other man just wanted to play a game. He would end up dead soon enough._

* * *

Left. Right. There were branches everywhere.

John had to watch out carefully to avoid anything that could lead to a fall. His feet were already numb from the constant running and he noticed that his chest was beginning to hurt as well.

A quiet buzzing behind him hinted that Moran was still firing. He was already out of breath.

_All right, John. Concentrate. Think...think. What would Sherlock do in this situation?_

But Sherlock wasn't here to help him. If his magic was that precious to him, he was surely trying to find him now, right? Because if he died, his magic would also disappear. Sherlock had told him that multiple times. He would appear any second, probably annoyed by the fact that John wasn't able to defend himself without his help.

"You can't escape me, John." Sebastian Moran's voice was cutting through the air.

_God, tell him something he didn't know._

It was not his first time being hunted. But being hunted by an _Almighty_ with a deadly weapon in his hands was something completely different then what he had experienced.

"Give up. You're already struggling."

The horrible truth was that Moran was right.

* * *

"Either Seb is playing more with his prey than usual or Johnny is showing an impressive show of endurance."

Sherlock huffed.

He knew that John wasn't ordinary. He would... _must_ win. Not because of his magic. It was pitiful to admit it but he needed John. He needed him like he needed air to breathe. He couldn't lose him.

_Don't give up._

* * *

"Alright. Alright. I give up." Two hours had already passed since the chase began and John couldn't run anymore.

"Finally! Wise decision. I promise I'll make it quick for you because believe it or not I quite like you, John. It's a shame I have to kill you now."

And that was his plan.

While Sebastian was aiming at his heart he threw a stone at his head.

It wasn't supposed to do any damage and John doubted that his throwing could do any damage at all but he had hoped to throw the other man off guard so he could maybe tackle Moran to the ground and get the crossbow.

It was a success until the tackling part came because although Moran's appearance was thin and rather weak the man himself was strong. So strong that he pushed John easily out of his way after he recovered from his surprise.

"You've made a grave mistake!" John's heart dropped.

"I was willing to end your life quickly but now I think a little pain would do you some good."

He wasn't prepared for the pain when the arrow hit his shoulder. It felt like his whole body was burning, the fire slowly spreading from where he was hit. The poison was taking effect. John felt his legs going numb. His heart rate sped up and his hands became sweaty.

Without thinking twice he grabbed the arrow and pulled.

John screamed.

The wound was bleeding heavily but at least he could prevent further damage from the poison.

When he thought of it better, bleeding to death didn't sound more pleasant.

His vision became blurry.

It took him a moment before he discovered that he was on his knees.

He vaguely remembered the stories about soldiers and good men dying with dignity and honour. But death felt awful. There was nothing honourable about it.

His whole left side was now leaning against the cold ground. He heard Moran laughing.

"What a pity it ended so soon! Nice to have met you, John Watson."

_So that's it? I'm going to die here?_

His mind went to Sherlock and to last night.

No. He wasn't going to die now. He had to sort everything out with his _bondmate._ And he couldn't do that if he was dead.

To his surprise the burning has stopped. He risked a look at his shoulder. The vision was still blurry but what he saw made his heart stop.

The wound was slowly healing itself.

„ _..Healing yourself is very powerful magic..."_

Molly has told him that. She was obviously misinformed.

A gasp from Moran told him that he was not the only one surprised.

"How could this be possible?"

John couldn't give an answer to that but he didn't care. At least he was beginning to regain the feeling of some parts of his body again.

" _What_ are you?" Moran was looking at him with wide eyes. The crossbow in his hands lay forgotten.

Now was the time to take the chance.

Without hesitation John grabbed the arrow, which he had previously pulled out from his shoulder and drove it through the _Almighty´s_ chest.

The look of surprise on Sebastian's face remained but this time he knew that John had defeated him.

Almost as if in slow motion, Moran fell backward.

Dead.

"I don't need magic to kill you. This was your intention, wasn't it? Guess it works for me in the same way."

He didn't know how long he stood there, with his eyes fixed on the dead man, who tried to kill him.

Was it that easy to erase a life? Where was the feeling of guilt? He certainly didn´t feel guilty. No.

Moran has deserved this.

"John."

The voice sounded familiar. _Sherlock?_

He turned around. The _common man´s_ body was still trembling from the rush of adrenaline. Wrong. It was the other Holmes. Mycroft.

"John, are you...alright?"

He couldn't help but laugh dryly.

"I was chased by a man, who wanted nothing more but to murder me. Tell you what, Mycroft, no. I'm not alright. And by the way, you did nothing to prevent that. Showing up a couple minutes ago would have improved my situation greatly."

The older man looked at him with a frown, his fingers fumbling nervously with an umbrella.

"I apologize. We didn't know what was happening to you and the other contestants. Nobody was allowed to see..."

"Then why are you here? Where is Sherlock?"

"After we discovered the other participants almost slaughtered to death I immediately took action to find you two. It turned out there was no _flame_ to begin with. Someone set this up."

"...Moriarty."

"What does he want from you?"

"Not from me...but Sherlock. Mycroft, we have to find Sherlock. I think he is with him."

* * *

Sherlock was still fighting the urge to let the heat consume him. It would be so easy to lose control.

_If John survives I'll need my focus to kill Moriarty._

That meant control over his magic.

He was distracted when he heard his enemy crying out loud.

James Moriarty clutched his head as he screamed. His magic in the form of black waves was leaving his body.

The only conclusion was that his bondmate has died.

Sherlock was never more relieved in his life. _John has won._

He saw Moriarty slowly recovering from the loss of his magic. There was sweat on his forehead.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"You've lost. Give up and tell me where John is."

The other man laughed.

"Who said that I lost? Oh yeah...I may have lost my _bondmate._ Whatever. He was always too careless, anyway."

"Clearly you must have missed all the important facts. You lose your b _ondmate._ You lose your magic. Don't waste my time. Now tell me where John is _"_

"I lost my magic, so what? I can still defeat you, Sherlock."

And with that he straightened himself up, with new waves of magic surrounding him. But they were not black anymore. Instead they had different colours and forms.

_Interesting. They don´t seem to fit his body._

The magic wasn't his.

And suddenly everything made sense. _How stupid. And ignorant._ Why didn´t he see this sooner?

"It was you. You were the one who killed the men and stole their magic."

"I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out _._ I had expected the penny to drop much sooner."

"I had my suspicions but never believed the possibility to steal one's magic to be practicable. I have to admit it's quite brilliant."

"It is, isn't it?" Moriarty scrunched his nose in delight.

"A shame nobody else will admire my work now that you will be dead in a few seconds."

"Try me."

"Believe me. I'm up for it."

* * *

"Can't you just locate your brother?"

"If I could, it wouldn't have taken me this long to find you."

John couldn't think of all that could possibly happen to his bo _ndmate_ every second that passed in search of him.

"Actually, you should be able to locate Sherlock. After all, he is _your bondmate._ "

"And how do I do that?"

"Just close your eyes."

John did as he was told.

"And now?" He grew impatient.

"Concentrate, John. Just think of him."

Well, since his thoughts were of only Sherlock, it wasn't going to be a problem.

He felt a slight tug.

Surprised he opened his eyes.

"And?"

"I may have imagined this but I think I felt a tugging."

"Great. Now concentrate on the direction, John." He did after a moment he knew it was coming from the right direction.

"This way." He implied with a finger for Mycroft to follow him.

* * *

Sherlock felt excited, relieved and tense. All those feelings he always despised were consuming him now.

Since he met John, his emotions were wreaking havoc within him.

Right now he felt defeated. For the first time in his life he wasn't sure if he would make it.

He had already let his magic loose but as Moriarty had predicted it, it was no use. The combination of several different magical essences was simply too strong. And he hated to admit it but the _bond_ with John was weakening him, too.

"Enough with the game, Sherlock Holmes, it is time to end this."

The taller man took some steps back but had to step up again when he was met with the edge of the cliff. He could hear the river roaring under them.

He was trembling. So this was it? The end of Sherlock Holmes.

He always thought it would be because of one his experiments going wrong. How unspectacular.

Sherlock was preparing himself for the final blow when he felt it.

The _bond._

That meant that John was somewhere nearby. He opened his eyes and looked around. He looked down.

_Blue met grey._

Moriarty noticed them, too. John and Mycroft.

"Look. We've got company. Let's give them a show. Goodbye, Sherlock, It was fun."

He wasn't surprised, sad or angry. He simply kept his eyes locked with John's when the spell hit him.

"Game over."

* * *

John knew it was the right place, when they arrived. The feeling was simply right. Sherlock has to be here somewhere. Only where?

He searched with his eyes.

"John, he is up there."

Mycroft pointed at a cliff where they could see Moriarty and Sherlock.

In that exact moment his _bondmate_ looked at him, really looked at him. Although they were far away John was able to read the expression in them.

Defeat.

"Mycroft, quick we have to get up there. I don't think Sherlock is doing well."

But it was too late. He watched as a spell hit his _bondmate_ in the chest.

"No, no.. **.** _SHERLOCK!_ "

He didn't know that fear could have such an impact on him until he saw his _bondmate_ fall all the way down from the cliff.

Falling through branches and rock spurs.

To John it seemed like decades when he finally hit the surface of the river. He couldn't move. His eyes were only staring at the spot, where Sherlock stood seconds ago and then staring at the river.

He wasn't aware of his heart beating a million times faster than usual or his erratic breathing.

A whisper escaped from his lips.

" _No._ "

He began to run. He ran as fast as he could, even faster than when he was chased by the hunters.

Behind him he could hear Mycroft shouting something to him but nothing mattered anymore. Not when the most important person to him was somewhere in the river.

Only three...two...one step more and he was able to dive into the stream. John hated water more than anything. He was aware of his miserable art of swimming but in that moment he chose to forget all of that.

All he could think of were lips pressing against his on a cold and clear night as an attempt to breathe for him. Or warm feverish lips against his, forgotten in the morning. Or a passionate kiss in the kitchen.

_You bastard. You idiot. If you die now I'll tell everyone your dirtiest secrets you told me last night when you were drunk._

His eyes were frantically searching for a mop of dark, curly hair. But there were no signs of a body.

_I'll write it even on your gravestone so everybody can see what a ridiculous man Sherlock Holmes really was._

John knew that he was thinking stupid things but he needed something to hold on to. This couldn´t be the end. His arms were already feeling tired because of the constant swimming against the stream. Not to mention that he wasn't able to hold his breath for much longer.

_Sherlock, please. Please._

He needed to go up for oxygen, his legs already pushing in a downward motion when he finally saw him.

John wasn't even sure at first if it was really his _bondmate_ but after a moment there was no doubt.

It was indeed Sherlock. Looking like a corpse laying on some kind of rock.

He pushed with his hands as fast and as hard as he could. His fingers finally grasped a thin wrist trying to move a body that was way taller than he was.

With trembling hands he took the coat off. It was holding them back. His chest hurt from withholding the need to breathe. John didn't have the time to take a break though. He had to get him up fast.

Finally Sherlock was light enough to be moved.

He still couldn´t believe it when they broke through the surface and he hungrily consumed the fresh air into his lungs.

With his _bondmate's_ head against his chest John swam on his back towards land.

He laid the body carefully on the ground still dripping water. Mycroft was already approaching them when he stopped in his tracks. John noticed the look he was given.

The cap.

It must have fallen off when he dived into the river. His golden hair was now exposed. It was still shining golden like the sun. Even more, now that it was wet.

But he didn't care. His focus was only on Sherlock, who was unresponsive and looked pale.

_He looks dead._

No, John didn't even want to think about that.

"Sherlock. Hey...quit the playing. Wake up."

His right hand was lightly slapping the taller man's cheek.

"Sherlock, hey..."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around he noticed Mycroft standing right behind him. John was glad that he didn't try to ask him questions about his hair at this moment because there was something more important. A pained expression had appeared on the older Holmes' face. The fingers on his shoulder were squeezing him apologetically.

John refused. He knew what the other Holmes was thinking but he couldn't accept it. He wouldn't.

All he could see was defeat in his eyes.

"John..."

"No."

"John, he's dead. There is nothing we can do now."

"No, he's not. Look, you probably don't know your brother very well but I do. He's a stubborn ass. Always bothering others with his annoying behaviour. Playing the violin at night and abusing the kitchen for some experiments with body parts. I mean, who does that? And then the constant deducing. It drives me crazy. He wouldn't just give up like that. He's not..he's not d..."

John couldn´t say the final word.

_Dead._

The expression on Mycroft's face changed. It was full of pity. There was pity for the man who lost his _bondmate_ moments ago. Maybe even pity for himself that he never showed his brother how much he meant to him.

"The spell from Moriarty probably killed him before he even noticed that he was falling."

John was rocking Sherlock in his arms now. He blinked twice. Through tears he observed the state of his _bondmate_. Mycroft was right. His face was slack, his skin was ice cold. His chest was still.

He didn't need a consulting detective to tell him the obvious.

_John, even an idiot can see by now that I'm not among the living anymore._

John laughed. Even _now_ Sherlock was able to give him a lecture. His outburst earned him a concerned look from Mycroft.

"No, you're wrong, Sherlock."

"John...I'm sorry I know this is very hard for you to accept but..."

The _common man_ didn't even bother to listen to the older Holmes.

"You're wrong, Sherlock because I refuse. I refuse to believe that you are dead, you hear that you bastard? _I refuse..._ "

Nobody knew what happened when suddenly a golden light emerged from nowhere.

John could hear a gasp coming from Mycroft before he lost himself in the brightness.

* * *

_"I refuse, father. I cannot abandon my child."_

_"By my law, you're not allowed to keep that child from that barbaric man, Noyta. That's my last word."_

_Her hands were slowly caressing her big stomach as silent tears fell down her cheeks._

_"Please, father. I love him and I love this little life growing inside of me."_

_"You're too young to even know the meaning of love! Don't disgrace our family with your reckless behaviour."_

_After that conversation she decided to run away with her lover. They would find a place far away from her father's kingdom. Her magic would protect them. Protect their little family._

_One day she finally felt the pain of giving a life. It has already lasted for hours when she went to their usual meeting point with trembling feet. Anticipation and happiness filled her but she was not prepared to find her lover on the brink of death._

_"No."_

_She ran as fast as she could. Hands were slowly trying to heal the man she loved the most but it wasn't enough. Her magic immediately recognized the other source of magic. It was that of her brothers. They were responsible for this._

_Anger and desperation consumed her but no matter what she did, it was not showing any effect. The life inside of her was still fighting for a way out._

_She thought of one thing._

_Strong hands were grabbing her wrists. Loving eyes were pleading for her to stop. He knew what she was thinking._

_"Noyta...don't."_

_She knew it was selfish. To give up her soul for him but she could never endure her life if he would die. Her thoughts were on her child, who would come any moment. She wouldn't be able to see it growing into a strong adult. Would her baby have her eyes or his? Would it be able to use magic?_

_Her heart was filled with regret but she had decided._

_"I love you so much. Please care for our child."_

_"No...please. Don't do this...Noyta..."_

_It was too late. She closed her eyes and pushed. Pain was everywhere. She could feel her magic leaving her body and flowing into her lover. She could feel a life leaving her body._

_She screamed. And after what seemed like decades there was another noise filling the quiet forest._

_It was the cry of a newborn child._

_Death was close now but through tears she could see her child in the arms of a desperate man._

_Her son._

_He had hair as golden as the sun._

_"Hey...Hey, baby. You're so beautiful. I love you. Please don't forget that. Never forget." She was able to place a kiss on his little forehead before she breathed out for the last time._

_Neither the man, who would raise his child with unconditional love nor the dying woman knew that she has passed most of her magic onto her son. It was magic mainly to protect and defend but so powerful that nothing could break it._

_A child with golden hair._

_The flame of Noyta._

_Many decades passed. The child had established his own family long after his father died._

_His magic silently resided in him because he never had the chance to explore it._

_His father had made sure that he heard a lullaby every night, a lullaby about his mother's love._

_"... Fear not my child, fear not_

_If death comes for your blood._

_Purity and love will conquer it all_

_And if you do not believe so_

_then remember the girl,_

_Who gave her life to descend to gold,_

_The flame of life, she is called."_

_His family would grow. And after many winters he died, too._

_Now and then a child was born with golden hair but only few of them inherited Noyta´s power._

_The last member of the blood line was a young girl. Few days ago, she gave birth to a son but she was unable to care for him. Hunger and sickness had consumed her and she knew death was near. So the girl made a decision. She placed her baby in a small basket and a piece of parchment next to it, with the child's name and lullaby her mother used to sing her every night. She always told her how it was about their ancestors and their family history. She kissed the child for the last time on the forehead. Trembling lips meeting golden hair. Dangerous hair._

_"Goodbye, John. I hope you have more luck than I had. I'm sorry that I have to abandon you."_

_And then she disappeared after she placed the basket in front of a door. She hoped that the family would accept the baby as their own child._

_She never saw the woman, whose first reaction was shock when she saw the bundle at her front door. But because she has been told that she would never be able to conceive a child she saw it as a sign that someone from above wanted her to raise the child._

_And so she did. It was only years later that she married a man named Watson and was able to finally give birth to a little girl. Harriet._

Mycroft closed his eyes as a bright light was piercing his eyes.

He had never seen anything like it before. Warmth consumed him. It was soothing and...protecting?

After a few moments the light ebbed away.

"John...what happ-"

He couldn´t finish the sentence because the sight in front of his eyes was just unbelievable.

John's hair was not shining golden anymore but _glowing._ As for his eyes, Mycroft was sure they weren't that piercing blue before.

The most shocking part was that the aura around John Watson had changed. He was radiating such powerful magic. He had only encountered something similar when Sherlock was experiencing one of his outbursts.

Then he saw John smile. After a moment of confusion he noticed the reason for it.

Sherlock. He wasn't looking pale or dead anymore. In fact he looked very much alive, chest heaving up and down as his brother breathed.

"How is this possible?"

* * *

John didn't know what happened when a sudden light surrounded him. He felt anger and sadness but that _thing_ was clearly trying to comfort him.

He opened his eyes but he didn't expect to be alone. Where was Sherlock? Where was Mycroft?

He shouted into the light. "What have you done with Sherlock? Where am I?"

Did he get hit by Moran after all and died? He wasn't ashamed to feel hope rising in him. Maybe he could join Sherlock after all.

"You're not dead, John."

A female voice was speaking to him. After the initial shock he pulled himself together.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your answer to everything. Your blood. "

"Great. Even dead people have to speak in riddles. What does that even mean?"

The voice laughed. It didn't sound threatening but bright and joyful.

"You never listen. I said you're not dead, John."

"Then why am I here?"

"You're here because you've lost something very important."

There it was again. The pain of loss.

"Sherlock."

"You can bring him back." His attention was immediately captured.

"I can? How?"

"Don't ask. Just do it."

"Are you joking? I'm afraid this is not the right time for it. Listen lady...I don't know who you are and what you want from me but I swear if you are playing some sort of a game with me...and Sherlock..." He paused. The mention of his _bondmate_ hurt.

"We got a noisy one here."

This time it was a man.

"Why are we even helping him?" Another female voice asked but this time it sounded much younger.

"Quiet." The voice, which spoke to him first, was obviously the leader.

"John, don't be afraid. We're your family. Your ancestors."

"My what? I must be dreaming."

"No John. You're not. Let me show you."

And suddenly he was able to see all of them; thousands of people stepping out from the light. He saw that some of them had golden hair as well. They were looking at him, some curious and some encouraging.

And then a woman appeared. She looked beautiful. With long golden hair and dressed in a long silver gown. She looked like a princess.

"I don't think my mother has mentioned any royalty in our family."

"That's because the mother you know isn't your biological mother."

John was shocked but then laughed dryly.

"I don't believe you."

The woman sighed. Another figure stepped out, a thin looking girl. She was looking at him with sad eyes.

"I am your mother. I'm sorry, John. I was very young back then and I couldn´t provide you with anything. As you can see I died very young. But believe me it was the hardest decision of my life to leave you."

John looked closely at her. The girl seemed nervous and guilty. He wasn't angry at her that she has abandoned him. She was practically a child herself. At a closer inspection he noticed that her eyes and her mouth were the same as his. But she had long brown hair.

She was his mother.

"I've gone crazy. That's it. I must be dreaming. I mean..."

"You're not, John. You're the last one of us, the last one with my magic in his blood."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Noyta, Princess of the ancient kingdom."

" _You_ are Noyta? The one with the _flame_?"

"There's no flame, John."

"There isn't? So...everything Sherlock and I did. ..It was for nothing? And Sherlock is now..."

"No. Think, John. I said there is no flame in particular but there is someone with magic, so powerful that he can break any spell. I wasn't able to bring back my lover but _you_ can. My magic had thousands of years to develop."

John was looking at her and at the others.

" It's me...the reason why I'm able to defend myself against magic, the reason for my healing ability...I'm the f _lame._ "

"You are."

"But how do I use it? I'm...I can't ...I don't know what to do."

The woman took his head between her hands.

"Don't think, John. Just do it. We have faith in you. I have faith in you. After all you're a descendant from the ancient kingdom." She smiled at him. He noticed her hair glowing.

"You're the _flame_. You've just forgotten how to glow, how to shine bright. Don't hide yourself."

He had so many questions to ask but they were slowly disappearing, all of them one by one. His mother was giving him a nod as she stepped back into the light. He felt alone and scared.

But he didn't need to be because he had Sherlock. And he needed him.

Shine bright? _Let's do that then._

* * *

John was surprised to feel the magic. He always assumed that it wouldn't feel like anything but he was wrong. He felt powerful. He felt great, even greater now that Sherlock was alive in his arms. Noyta was right. His magic acted on instinct. At first there was nothing but after seconds something changed.

Sherlock.

His magic was calling him and for a second everything blended together.

_Meeting John for the first time. Having an outburst. John, crying because he was scared of the men running after him. Sherlock, using his magic to tease his brother. John, kissing a girl for the first time. Sherlock, having the first bite of chocolate...  
_

_John. Sherlock. John. Sherlock..._

And then something happened. A heartbeat. A life escaping from death.

Mycroft was staring at him with an open mouth and shocked eyes and really...it would have been funny if he wasn't so scared himself. He thought the glowing thing had stopped once he was successful with bringing Sherlock back to life.

"I think I have a lot to explain."

But he got interrupted by his _bondmate,_ who had slowly regained consciousness.

"What happened?"

John was never happier in his life. And he thought Mycroft looked quite relieved, too.

"Welcome back, little brother."

"Mycroft, if this is one of your tricks to convince me to do the _bonding_ ceremony? I'm going say that you're not doing a very good job of it"

Mycroft looked at him and then at John.

"Don't you remember?"

"No. I clearly don't. I'm wet and I don't know what I'm doing _here_."

Sherlock looked around.

"The weather is far too good to blame it on rain. Possible conclusion is I fell into the river. But why?

And what´s more important, who is _he_?"

He pointed at John.

* * *

**That´s it. Only one chapter left. Be prepared for the finale. There were a lot to digest concerning John´s past. I hope everything made sense ;)**


	12. Silver And Gold

_**Previously:** _

"Don't you remember?"

"No. I clearly don't. I'm wet and I don't know what I'm doing here."

Sherlock looked around.

"The weather is far too good to blame it on rain. Possible conclusion is I fell into the river. Why? And what's more important, who is he?"

He pointed at John

* * *

_Silence._

Everything turned silent for a moment. Not even a breeze interrupted the tension in the air.

John looked at Mycroft who looked equally confused.

"What do you mean, Sherlock...this isn't a time for jokes."

He couldn't believe it. No. Please don't let it be real. He was so close...so close to getting his happy ending.

It wasn't fair. This wasn't right.

"Do I look... _like I'm joking right now?_ " He knew that kind of tone. It meant determination.

"No. No, please, Sherlock...it's me."

He didn't think twice when he closed his fingers around Sherlock's upper arm in a hard grip.

The only response he got was furrowed eye brows and a distant look on the other man's face.

He moved his had away as if he were burned.

* * *

" _No. No, please Sherlock...it's me."_

Should he know the man in front of him? Everything alluded to it but he honestly couldn't remember. And he would definitely remember a man with golden hair. Not that it was special but it was indeed rare to possess such a hair colour.

Shaggy clothes. Short hair. _Short_ man.

No. The outer appearance didn't really seem to reflect an outstanding personality.

In a matter of seconds he decided: Whoever was standing in front of him, he was boring.

Feeling a firm grip on his arm he looked up. Sad eyes were looking back at him. The corners of his mouth turned down when he didn't react. As quickly as those fingers touched him they let him go.

Should he feel guilty about it?

The truth was he felt... _nothing._

"Look, Mycroft...it's really nice to sit here in the sun having a little chat with you and..."

_What was he called again?_

"The name's John. John Watson." A slight shakiness in the voice was audible. Interesting. Not just a friend then.

"...well, John. But I'd rather prefer to be in a dry place right now. And I hate to admit it but I need someone to explain to me what has happened here."

His brother stepped closer and examined him as if he would break into a thousand pieces any second.

"Oh please. Just spare me your pity. Where's the carriage?"

Is it my imagination or has Mycroft grown rapidly old overnight?

"Oh that's so you, Sherlock...mistaking my concern for pity. Now could you please just be quiet for a second. I swear you're going to be the death of me, little brother."

And suddenly he felt warm.

This time it didn't last long until he recognized that Mycroft was hugging him. Before he could open his mouth in a protest he was interrupted by the other man.

"I said...be quiet." It was a mild whisper but it was enough to surprise him. Never did his brother's voice sound so fragile and...tired. Whatever must have happened here it must have affected him greatly.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any weirder the arms released him. He looked up to an embarrassed facial expression on the older man.

"Well...Hmm...You...had something... your back..."

"Yes of course, wouldn't have thought of it as anything else, Mycroft."

The unusual emotional act from his brother has spiked Sherlock's interest in finding out what truly has occurred. Receiving a hug from Mycroft? It must have been really bad.

He looked at...John.

Blue eyes were looking back at him. Longing and desperate. After seconds though, they looked ashamed on the ground.

_Still nothing._

* * *

Through the whole ride John didn't know what to say. There were so many questions and so little answers. Mycroft's curiosity about what happened at the river didn't help much either.. How do you tell someone that apparently your ancestors paid you a visit while you were unconscious after being blinded with a mysterious light? Oh, and one of them happened to be Nyota, who was only the world's most powerful Almighty. And here comes the fun part, he is somehow in possession of magic, too...

Right. As if anyone would believe him.

Looking left he stole a glance at Sherlock. For waking up under these circumstances with some kind of amnesia he has handled this situation pretty well. What did you expect? It was Sherlock after all. But still...he wondered if there was some kind of permanent damage besides the amnesia.

John closed his eyes. He was tired.

"Quiet."

He opened his eyes. Sherlock was staring directly at him.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking."

The common man couldn't help himself and snorted. No...there couldn't be any kind of damage at all. Sherlock was still being his old self.

"And this is distracting you how?"

"In various ways, for example your constant staring is making me feel uneasy. Staring at someone won't make the amnesia go away, even you should know that. Furthermore every time you're thinking about something, and it must be of great importance or really what your little mind deems important, you tap your fingers against the window. Tapping here...tapping there. Not really comfortable for someone who is suffering from a headache."

"Are you hurt?" Without wasting a thought John leaned over to examine the _Almighty ,_ only for the other man to back away slightly. Right. For Sherlock he was a complete stranger.

Apologetic he returned to his seat.

"Not really hurt. But the thumping in my head would appreciate it if you could be quiet from now on."

"Yes of course sorry."

The rest of the ride was spent in complete silence.

* * *

"Oh Sherlock! My poor boy. Are you alright?"

When they arrived in front of the mansion the first thing John saw was Mrs. Hudson chattering about how reckless they were, that she knew something was foul with the competition and how glad she was that none of them was hurt.

She didn't know about Sherlock yet.

He couldn't find his _bondmate's_ parents but he somehow knew that they were relieved about the outcome as well.

"John, look at you. Are you alright? I heard from Mycroft there was an incident. Oh god, how terrible..."

"Yes...I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson. It's..." He didn't have the heart to tell her the truth because he knew how much she adored him and Sherlock being together. She somehow got into her mind that they were a couple.

But now...

"Sherlock, John...we need to talk."

Mycroft appeared between them, pointing at the mansion, where they could talk in private.

* * *

The talk lasted only 15 minutes with Mycroft explaining everything to his brother from the beginning where John accidently created a bond between them until the incident at the competition.

Well...he only left out the kissing part.

"So you...I lived with you for the entire time?"

He felt grey eyes estimating him up and down.

"Yes...Mrs. Hudson especially created the house for us...221b..."

"Interesting. Your ramblings I mean." Sherlock approached him; noses were almost touching each other. John felt his heart skipping a beat.

"Is there something you aren't telling me...John?" The common man looked alternately between the two men. Mycroft was eyeing him suspiciously.

"No...I don't think so." _Stupid, John. Really stupid._

"In that case, I think I'll go. There is this experiment I have left..."

"What? Are you just going now? I mean... _now_?" Sherlock, who already walked towards the door stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"Yes. Is there another problem I should be concerned about?"

"Another prob-...Sherlock, what about our _bond_? Have you thought about that?"

"What _bond_? There is no such thing between us anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course there is." He really didn't want to sound desperate in that moment but the _bond_ was the last connection between them. His last hope.

"Is there? I for myself cannot feel such a thing between us. Are you telling me you can feel a... _bond?_ " The _Almighty_ spoke with such a disdain that John was taken aback.

Now that he mentioned it...he realized that something was missing. The constant feeling of another person in every fiber of his body...it was gone.

It totally knocked him out of his mind. How did he survive before? How will he survive with such an important thing missing?

"No...but..."

"Look, John. I can understand your worries and from what my brother has told me I have to admit I'm quite surprised how well you have put yourself together after the near death experience. I thought our main goal was to solve our _bond_ , right? And that has happened. You should be happy. I should be...relieved. I'm going back to how I lived my life before all this happened. It was nice to meet you, John."

"But..." He didn't have the chance to say anything anymore. The _Almighty_ already left.

Sherlock was right. He should be crying with joy after their _bond_ has somehow disappeared.

"That went well."

He turned around to face the elder Holmes, who has watched the encounter with interest,

"Why has our _bond_ been solved? I thought there was no flame...nothing..."

"I believe it was you, John."

"Me?"

"Of course you brought my brother back, you broke the _bond_...now tell me. How did you do that?"

"I...don't know."

Mycroft raised one eyebrow, which was an obvious sign that he clearly didn't believe anything John has said.

"Your magic...I have never seen anything like it before. My brother...he died. I was a witness to it, unfortunately. Even if you had magic in you, it should have vanished with the death of your _bondmate_. I'll repeat it for the last time. Tell me, John Watson, how did you save my little brother?"

John opened his mouth and then closed it.

Should he attempt to lie? What was the use of it? Mycroft would eventually figure it out. He put on a brave face and began to speak.

* * *

" _Noyta_...was one of your ancestors?"

"That...or I had a really vivid nightmare of strangers telling me how to use my magical resources."

"That is truly remarkable. So the legend was true. There is a _flame_. We only took the words to literal. That would explain many things...why you were immune to magic, how you were able to revive Sherlock...very remarkable indeed. I think the amnesia was somehow a side effect. Bringing someone back from death...it is a difficult task. I wonder, would you be willing to join the council? With your powers we could do impossible things."

"No I don't think I'm suitable for something like that."

"I knew that you would refuse. What a pity."

"Am I not allowed to stay here?"

"Look, John...I know that you and Sherlock obviously cared for each other very much. But right now… in his state, I fear it would do him no good to be around someone he can't really remember."

"I can help...you said yourself I'm the flame. I could use my magic..."

"It would be of no use. Amnesia cannot be cured with any magic."

"But..."

"I know. You could live here...have your own home, settle down but would you be truly happy? Everyday you would encounter my brother and he won't behave the same to you as he did before. Could you bear that? And besides, your family is waiting for you on the other side. After all the original plan was to get you back when the bond was solved."

John grew silent. Mycroft was right. Seeing Sherlock like that, he didn't know if sooner or later he would fall apart.

"And what about...Moriarty?"

"That's our problem. At the moment we cannot trace him but I have faith that we will, sooner or later. He won't get away."

"I see." Yes, he could see. Of course it was the better option to leave now that everything would be settled.

"Do you mind if I say goodbye to your brother?"

"No, of course not. Take your time."

John turned on his heels. He walked straight towards the library. Why, he didn't know but when he opened the door he knew his instinct was right. Sherlock sat in the corner with a book between his hands.

"Hey Sherlock, I just wanted...to say...I'm going to leave now, you know? Now that we have solved the...issues we needed to solve... I just wanted to tell you goodbye. I don't think we are going to see each other very soon."

As soon as those words left his mouth he knew he made the right choice. Sherlock only nodded slightly with his head but didn't look up to tell him goodbye.

Who knows when or if he would ever remember him?

Before he could regret it he took one last glance at the _Almighty_ and went back to Mycroft.

* * *

"So that's it."

They arrived in front of his house.

"I'm afraid it is, John." The common man looked outside the carriage. His house…those grey walls...the little front garden...it doesn't feel like home anymore. But where was home anyway?

Mycroft must have sensed his inner turmoil.

"I know you and Sherlock were...quite attached to each other. And I must admit those last weeks I've never seen my brother so...dare I say, happy. I sincerely hope Sherlock will regain his memory. We will do everything in our power to..."

"It's fine, Mycroft." He sounded tired. Is that how people feel? Weak and tired when the most important person in your life has been taken from you?

"We both know there won't be a way to give him his memory back soon. I'm not saying there is no hope. It's just...It's fine."

He watched the elder Holmes open his mouth in protest but then thinking the better of it.

"I understand. Take care of yourself John Watson. It has been a pleasure."

"Yeah..." With shaky legs he got out. The door was almost closed when he decided to say the last words he feared so much to let out.

"Mycroft."

"Yes?"

"Just...I just wanted to say...I" _Loved_ your brother? _Love_ your brother? _I don't want to leave him?_

Again he didn't need to finish the sentence because the other man nodded slowly, his facial expression almost sadder than John's.

"I know." Mutual understanding.

"And...take care of him."

"I will." Finally he could hear the door slamming and wheels turning.

John didn't possess the strength to look back. If he did, he knew he would have made a fool of himself. He probably would have run after the vehicle or experience a mental breakdown.

Every step to his front door felt heavy. With hesitation, cold fingers pressed against the thick wood. A long squeak welcomed him home.

"John? Is that you? How was your trip?" Mycroft had mentioned before that for other people he left only for a few days to do a task concerning his work when in reality he was absent for weeks.

Weeks that already felt like a dream.

Seeing his mother in the door frame he realized how much he missed her. Without hesitation John ran forward, in search of her warm embrace.

She went still for a second before she closed her arms around him and chuckled.

"Silly boy, did you miss your old mother that much?"

He wasn't able to give her an answer so the only thing he did was hold onto her more firmly. Thinking that with every exhale he could maybe forget the tall man with brown curly hair.

* * *

Days passed. John slowly grew accustomed to his old rhythm. His mother has fully recovered from the illness; he has made sure of that.

A messenger arrived a few days before with a package saying that it was from a recently deceased family member and that it was his will for them to have it. When his mother opened the dirty package it was full of money and gold. They would never have to fear hunger and illness again.

His mother thought it was a wonder, a miracle.

John knew better.

He was sure that Mycroft had something to do with it. He wanted to look after John's well being. The _common_ man didn't like the charity, as he would call it, but his hunger was bigger than pride. And his mother deserved to be happy for once in her life.

Sometimes he wasn't even sure if his adventure in the other world really took place. But then there were those nights were he would sneak into the forest and practice his magic. Yes. He still was in the possession of the light.

John couldn't figure out what the purpose of his magic really was but he noticed that whatever it touched it left a spur of warmth and beauty. That must be the reason why no one in his world has been affected by it as they normally would with other _Almighties._

A few weeks passed and he still thought of Sherlock. What was he doing now? Was he alright? Did he remember him?

* * *

"Boring."

"Sherlock, you were confronted by two very powerful serial killers not moments ago! Tell me, how did that bore you?"

Lestrade shot him a glance what could be described as annoyance towards the younger man.

"Redundant. I won in less than a second when I found out their weakness. Which I'm surprised that you and your household didn't noticed before."

"Well sorry...not everyone is as great as Sherlock Holmes."

The taller man let out chuckle.

"Really Sherlock, you were way easier to handle when..." The older Almighty stopped in the middle of the sentence. Was it wise to mention him so soon?

"You mean John?"

Lestrade sighed.

"Yes, I meant John. Look...no one is expecting anything from you."

"I know." Why does everyone think it's his fault that he can't recall anything from the previous weeks? It's not like he wanted to forget.

"But for the sake of everyone...do you still not remember him a little bit? Not even a tiny bit?"

"No."

Lestrade observed him quietly before sighing again

"Okay...just asking. Thank you Sherlock, for today."

He didn't get a reply because the other man had already walked out of the room.

When Sherlock stepped outside he took a moment to look at the sky.

Yes, the constant worried glances unnerved him greatly and they made it sound as if this John was somehow his better half, his anchor in life.

Ridiculous.

If he was he wouldn't have forgotten him that easily, right?

He was still waiting for the moment where he would realize his grave mistake in letting John go.

But it never came.

* * *

The market was full of people. Women and men were running all over the place.

John shot an enquiring look at Sally.

"What's going on today? Why is everyone behaving so strangely?"

She glanced at him with shock.

"How can you forget that? Today is the _day._ "

"Right. The day..."

"You know, the day where they pay us a visit every ten winters. You can't tell me that you've seriously forgotten that!"

It took John a moment before he registered what Sally meant with "them".

_Almighties._

Sherlock.

He was going to see Sherlock again! The joy only lingered for a short time. After a moment of sobering up he realized he didn't want to let his former _bondmate_ see him like this, dirty, poor, and still hiding underneath his hood.

"What's with you now? Hey, John. What's wrong?"

"Just let him be, Sally. He's always like that." John turned his head to see Anderson standing between some goods made of clay.

Since he and Sally have gotten together he would always annoy him like that. John bet he was secretly envious about how much time he spent with his girlfriend. They do work together after all.

"Don't be mean, honey." The words were sharp but she giggled like a little girl when the man placed a kiss on her cheek.

John looked away.

_Memories of passionate kisses..._

Suddenly someone was yelling.

"They are here!"

People were frantically returning to their stands and stretching their necks out to get a glimpse of the Almighties.

John saw them first.

The household _Holmes_ came first. Their graceful movements almost making them appear as if they were floating across the ground.

He held his breath.

There. Somewhere in the front line dark hair, _grey eyes_. Grey eyes that could pierce right through your soul. The Almighty seemed to have lost weight. His facial expression was the same as ever. Slightly bored with a little bit of arrogance seeping through. Sherlock was too busy speaking with his brother to pay attention to his surroundings.

He is still wearing that coat...

He wasn't aware of Sally staring at him.

"John...are you crying?"

No. He was absolutely not. Because that would mean that he was mourning after the presence of his one and true...soul mate. And that is kind of useless, anyway. What did he expect? He was right where he belonged. Here in the village, working at the market. And Sherlock was right where he belonged, in a mansion...doing his...stuff.

He wished the moment would have lasted longer. It was so hard to fight against the urge to run after the crowd of _Almighties._

Please. Just only one second more. _Just give me more time to see if he's doing okay..._

"Hello Johnny-boy"

His attention immediately turned to someone else.

Not far away stood a figure in a black cloak. Even under the shadows of the hood John knew who it was.

_Moriarty._

What was he doing here? In a matter of seconds his feelings changed from sadness to panic. Even Sally could sense something was wrong.

"John, do you know him? He keeps staring at you."

"Run, Sally."

"What?"

"Please. Just run. It's going to get dangerous in a few minutes."

The woman eyed him skeptically.

"What are you talking abo-"

She didn't get the chance to finish the sentence because an inferno of fire was aimed straight at them.

Sally started screaming, unaware of her friend, who tried to focus on his magical power to build a shield, which should protect them from the spell.

Just in time John was able build the barrier. The consequence was horrendous. The spell bounced back and the flames were now thrown against the other stands. People began screaming and running.

Within a second all hell broke loose.

* * *

"I still cannot believe, you made me participate in _this._ "

Thousands of eyes were staring at them as they were walking down the way.

"Please. As if I could really make you do anything. Just admit it. You wanted to see him. Which leads us to the question, do you finally remember something?"

Sherlock thought it wasn't that obvious why he agreed on visiting the village. Sure, at first Mycroft had used mummy against him to force him to come along but he caught himself giving in far too easily.

Last week something strange had happened. He kept having these dreams about drowning and then being saved by blue eyes. Those nights were often accompanied with visions of strong hands caressing his body and soft lips placing kisses on different places.

It was a good thing he didn't sleep often because those visions were distracting him.

The _Almighty_ was already trying to reply when he felt it, the presence of powerful dark magic.

Suddenly several things took place at once.

He saw people running and screaming, trying to escape from a fire. Following the lines, his eyes rested on two figures in the distance.

One of them was wearing a black cloak.

_Moriarty._

The other one was busy trying to shield the running people from any harm. In the chaos the hood shifted, resulting into golden hair peeking through it.

John.

Without thinking twice he ran, ignoring his brother yelling at him.

* * *

There were just too many. He couldn't do it.

Moriarty was already preparing his next spell while John tried to prevent as much damage as possible. But the people just wouldn't move.

"Don't just stand there. Run! I can't hold him back much longer."

True, he may possess the power of the flame but that didn't mean he could control it. The magic was dormant for too long in his body. It was new and fresh and he didn't possess the same experience as Moriarty.

Just when he thought his shield would fall apart someone helped him.

Looking left he almost lost concentration due to his surprise.

Sherlock had come to help him.

He heard Jim laughing.

"And here I thought you were dead Sherlock. Thank you for not disappointing me. An interesting turn of events. Your pet has grown some magnificent powers, I must admit. I always knew you had it in you, Johnny."

"What do you want? Revenge?"

John got angrier as minutes passed by. Why couldn't he leave them alone?

"Revenge? Oh, you mean Seb. Nooo...I don't do revenges. Besides, you did me a great favour there. He was getting in my way. Let me see...what do I want...right. I believe what I want is some fun. But you won't understand. The boredom...all those pitiful people out there, knowing nothing but their own little life...Sherlock, on the other hand, you do understand me, don't you? The thrill. The excitement. You know why I have to do this."

John looked at his former bondmate, who spoke calmly but with clear disdain on his face.

"Don't compare yourself to me. You will fail miserably."

Moriarty laughed.

"We will see." And then the look changed into seriousness. "I will destroy you."

Without a warning he fired a spell. John was just quick enough to avoid getting the brunt of the attack. But not fast enough to avoid being grazed on his side. The pain was almost unbearable though. Moriarty smiled knowingly in triumph.

_Dark magic._

Sherlock hadn't noticed it. He was still trying to dodge the attacks.

"Mycroft! Help the people. They are getting in our way. And if I should get in heat..." He didn't have to finish. His brother understood and with the help of other _Almighties_ they tried to evacuate the place.

"Sherlock, are you sure..."

"Yes. I can handle him."

John wasn't very confident about that. His side was on fire and pulsing. Whatever Moriarty did to him, Sherlock should avoid getting hit by a spell if possible.

"John."

It was enough. The mention of his name was enough to clear his mind.

"John, listen to me. We have to combine our magic. Concentrate. I know it's very hard to focus right now but this won't be a success if you are not absolutely concentrating on your power. Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly. He could do that for Sherlock.

"Now I want you to fire with all you've got. We've only got this one chance."

_Focus, John._

He looked at the taller man and they silently came to a mutual understanding.

"Boys, I'm getting bored now. Is that all you've got?"

"Take that."

And he released everything.

All those years living in fear and sadness and he never knew he had it in him. The light. It was now showing his true power. He was not afraid anymore. It doesn't matter that Sherlock won't remember their time together as long as he could stay by his side and fight with him.

His magic painted everything golden. It was living and pulsing.

This was the true _flame._

His side felt numb but at the same time he was consumed by a comforting warmth, which let him feel every of part of his body.

John saw Sherlock adding his own magic to his. Silver blended into gold.

 _It looks pretty_.

Closing his eyes he was sure Moriarty was screaming in agony but it didn't matter. He did his part. Sherlock would make sure that the enemy would be defeated. He trusted him.

But right now he felt too tired to continue fighting. Sleeping sounded much better.

* * *

It was a great risk to combine their magic but there was no other way to win this fight.

Sherlock was informed by Mycroft that John had the light in him but he didn't know what that really meant until he finally saw it.

The presence of the ancient magic was thickening the air.

He almost forgot to do his own part. It was his luck that Moriarty seemed to be taken aback by the sudden change.

With the last bit of strength he directed their magic towards the enemy. Moriarty never stood a chance.

He saw the golden light spreading and closed his eyes because of the luminance.

A familiar warmth seeped through his body.

" _My name is John Watson...For god sakes, you have to eat!...Sherlock...I've got him, Sherlock. Run! I love you, John..."_

And something in him snapped.

Of course. It was always John. And it would always be him.

He remembered.

_The first time he saw John. He was slightly annoyed. Having a bond with this man? Impossible._

_John cooking in their home for the first time. He could recall feeling completely comfortable and secure in the other man's presence. He never felt like that with another person before._

_The training._

_The first round. The anger and sadness. The...kisses._

_Red wine. Passion. Regret. Fear..._

It all came back, overwhelming him for a moment before he could collect his thoughts together.

"We did it, John! What a great -" If he would have been more observant he would have seen it sooner. The way the other man clutched his side as if he was in great pain. He would have seen the ashy colour on John's face and notice his breathing that came in short and choppy gasps. And most importantly...he would have noticed the blood stain on the side of his shirt.

But he didn't.

So it took him by surprise when the shorter man suddenly lost his balance and collapsed against him, seeming to lose all energy to stand on his own.

"What -" And finally he noticed it, the reason why John looked as pale as a ghost.

The wound wasn't very deep but the trace of dark magic in it told him that it was serious.

Cradling his head in his arms he tried to speak to the other man, who had already lost focus on his surroundings.

"Hey...no. No, John. Look at me. Look at me, John. Now is not the time to lose consciousness."

He took his face in both of his hands and was taken aback by how cold the skin already felt.

_No._

"You have to fight this, do you hear me? Use your magic. Come one, John."

"I fear speaking to him won't help in this case, Sherlock."

He didn't notice his brother approaching them.

"I don't need a lecture right now, Mycroft. Help me. He is slipping away."

The older man grimaced at the urgency and terror in his little brother's voice.

"There's not much we can do but hope. Moriarty concentrated his last resources of magic on the wound. Even John, with his powerful magic, is having trouble rejecting the foreign substance."

"So what are you saying?"

"Let's pray that he will pull through." Sherlock grew angrier by seeing how calm the other man seemed to be about the situation.

"I don't believe in praying, Mycroft."

Focusing his attention on John again he noticed the man has become unnaturally still in his arms.

He slapped one of his cheeks lightly but was not rewarded with much of a response except with random mumbling. Paralyzed with fear his own breathing stopped for a moment before he decided to whisper in John's ear.

"Listen to me. You won't give up. Molly won't forgive you if you do. Mrs. Hudson won't forgive you. Lestrade won't forgive you. And I'll never forgive you if you should decide to leave me alone now. Please...John... _.I need you._ I...love you."

He couldn't control the shaking that has overcome his body, anymore. Like a mantra he repeated John's name over and over again.

And suddenly the breathing stopped all together.

* * *

" _Please...John...I need you."_

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted the decision. Pain flared up everywhere and the light was blinding. Even with the pain he felt very comfortable. Giving it a second thought he realized that he was in a bed. Was he in the sick room?

_God, my side is burning._

With a whimper he tried to get up. Where was he?

"Lie still. You will tear everything."

_Sherlock._

"Mrhmm…Sh..."

"Don't speak. You have to save your energy. The magic in your wound is still affecting you greatly."

"Wh-What happened?"

Finally he could blink the sleepiness away and get a good look at the _Almighty_. Concerned grey eyes were anxiously looking at him. Sherlock's face was contorted into a grim and serious facial expression. In a matter of seconds snippets of the last event were rushing back to his mind.

 _Moriarty. The fight._ Sherlock _._...he remembered! He finally remembered.

"What happened is that you're an idiot, John."

His heart jumped at the mention of his name. It felt so good to hear it again from the _Almighty's_ mouth.

"You could have died."

John didn't know what to say. Sherlock's voice sounded so...sad and horrified at the thought of losing him.

"If you had died...I don't know what I would have done to myself, John." Long fingers were caressing his hands. He felt shivers going up and down his spine. He tried to lighten the mood and smiled.

"Well, you certainly wouldn't have had to worry about some strange man accidently creating a _bond_ and leaving nothing but chaos behind you, anymore."

John wasn't prepared with the angry reaction that followed.

"I would have died with you! Do you now how I felt when I saw you there, lying on the ground with blood seeping through your clothes and I could do nothing. I wasn't even powerful enough to close a stupid wound. I felt helpless, John. I was terrified. Do you know what that feels like?"

John closed his eyes and took one shaky breath.

"I do." He felt Sherlock's eyes on him.

"I felt the same when I pulled you out of the river. And I felt even worse when I found out that I was erased from your memories."

He swallowed the knot in his throat down, waiting for the taller man to respond.

"I'm...sorry."

_Did Sherlock just tell him he was sorry?_

"I've caused you so much pain in the last few weeks. Of course I should have remembered, How I could have not..."

"Stop, this wasn't your fault. I was just glad that you were alive...everything else was a minor matter."

"I feel the same."

After some seconds of silence John cleared his throat.

"So...how long was I out?"

'Three days."

"Three days, Sherlock! What about my mother...the people in the market..."

"Don't worry. If you won't calm down I'm afraid we will have to give you a sedative. We explained everything to them. Your mother...she seemed quite upset and shocked that you knew about your real family background."

"You told her?!"

"Well, after hundreds of people witnessed our fight against Moriarty there was no other choice. Mycroft is good at replacing memories but not that good. And I have to admit that the sheer number of replacements would have been difficult even for me to do."

"And how did they take it?" He cringed at the thought of Anderson's reaction.

Sherlock smiled.

"You are officially their hero and everybody is very eager for you to wake up so they can show you how thankful they are."

"Really?" It felt as if a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Before they get the chance to show their gratitude, I will be the first to show mine."

Before he could realize it John felt familiar soft lips pressing against his. It was way too short.

He felt himself grinning like an idiot.

"So...I guess this means you won't push me away?"

"It was never my intention to push you away. But at that time it was necessary because of the effects of our _bond._ "

"Does that mean I can stay here, right by your side?" He knew he was pushing his luck. God knows he was in pain, he was tired and the only thing keeping his eyes open was in front of him.

Sherlock looked straight into his eyes.

"Stay. Forever."

And without another word, they began to explore each other's mouth again.

John could feel his heart pumping in his chest. His hands were sweaty and his throat was as dry as sandpaper...

* * *

_Epilog:_

* * *

"Where the hell is he, Mycroft?"

_Has he changed his mind? In the end did Sherlock change..._

"Be quiet. I can hear you thinking, John."

The _common_ man turned around to see a tall man with curly brown hair grinning mischievously at him. In an instant he breathed a sigh of relief before he looked sternly at the _Almighty._

"Sherlock! Where have you been? I was seriously considering calling this thing off."

"Exaggerating as always, John. I don't think your temper suits the festive mood." As an apology for his delay Sherlock cupped his hands gently around John's face and pressed his lips against the other man's in a light kiss.

Seriously. How was he supposed to be angry with him when he does things like that?

"Please boys. Is it too much for you to spare me the sight? Just save it for later. We're already late."

"Your brother is right, Sherlock. They are waiting for us."

"Two more minutes won't harm them. And besides...it's not my fault that you look especially good in that ceremonial suit." Mycroft rolled his eyes and pretended not to see the expression of lust on his brother's face.

Long fingers were fumbling at John's collar and he felt his pulse quicken.

Memories of last night came to his mind. That bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Not a year ago he would have called the person crazy who told him that he would some day bond with an Almighty. Let alone possess magic himself.

But now...everything has changed.

Few weeks ago he finally mastered it. He was able to build up a mental shield strong enough to shield Sherlock from any harm his magic could do to him. At the same time they would be able to benefit from their combined powers.

That meant they could _bond_ again.

At first he was quite unsure if Sherlock was open to the idea but when he told him about it, all he received was a broad smile and genuine enthusiasm.

They have both changed.

John wasn't the man hiding underneath a big hood, anymore. He was now full of confidence and pride.

The government of the _Almighties_ began considering the idea of accepting _common_ people in their world. The only difficulty was that exposing them to magic could do harm to them. But John was sure they could find a solution for this. He already talked to Mycroft about using his magical powers to help them.

Yes...everything has changed and is changing now.

With Sherlock by his side John stepped out.

They were rewarded with a cheering crowd.

He looked around, spotting familiar faces here and there.

God...even Anderson and Sally were present.

Good old Mrs. Hudson… Molly...his mother...Lestrade...they all came together to be a witness of a ceremony.

Their _bonding_ ceremony.

The clouds opened and the sun shone directly on their faces. He was sure that his hair sparkled gold.

"God...you're so beautiful." Sherlock's whisper gave him shivers.

"You're quite a catch too, Mr. Holmes." He let his mouth form into a grin.

"Now shall we begin?"

"Oh god, yes."

Whatever he would do, wherever he would go...from now on it would be with Sherlock. And it would stay like this forever...

* * *

_The end_

* * *

**Soo...this is it. The final ending. I´m sorry you had to wait so long for it. It´s been a busy time for me but now it´s finished.**

**Thank you so much for staying with this little story of mine the whole time. Even when updates were such a slow progress.**

**I hope we will such each other soon in my future stories. Lots of love, Y.**


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